Paradox
by NYPD8433
Summary: "McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him. The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Hurt/Comfort/Suspense/Drama&Romance.
1. Chapter 1

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

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_Chapter One - The Arrest_

A tall male figure appeared in Mac's office doorway, blocking a section of the light that was being cast into his eye line by the sun, "McKenna Taylor Junior?" He called across the room in a monotone of seriousness.

"Yes?" Mac asked blindly. He beckoned the stranger into his office, without looking up, preoccupied with sighing a report. In a trance of tiredness, due to the lack of restful sleep, he had not realised that his un-shorted name of McKenna had been used.

"You are under arrest for the suspicion of murder." A cold, impassive voice informed him. It felt as if time was at a stand still. '_What_?' Mac thought shortly as he span around to face the man who was addressing him. The events unfolding seemed to be unrealistic and dreamlike, he could already feel the horrors of a nightmare unraveling. The sounds of the deep man's tone seemed to linger in the air for what felt like an eternity afterwards although in reality it had only been seconds.

It took a moment or two for the words to register, when what he was being told adjusted into place, the colour drained from his face and the smartly dressed man was shot a mortified look from Mac's direction. Had he heard correctly? Was he really that tired? Mac raised his hand to his head as it began to throb. A million and one things raced through his mind in a panicked frenzy; he must have misheard, had he said _murder_? Who's Murder?

Glancing around, Mac stood up from the chair in which he was sitting; the man seemed to be alone and without a partner. He hadn't provided Mac with any credentials that proved who he was. Mac had never seen him before, although he did have a something about him that suggested, official and above board. Something that Mac could not quite place his finger on. What was to say that this man was who he said he was? How did he get on the 34th floor if he wasn't a Law enforcement officer of some form?

The look of triumph and victory in the older man's facial expressions sent a somewhat chilling sensation down Mac's spine and dismay began to tremble through his body. The official looking, grey haired man held a pair of handcuffs in a firm grasp; they looked police issue. The sunlight had begun its decent for the day and the rays were aligned with office blinds, now shining brightly into the office. As the authoritative figure moved, light reflected off of the metal restraints and briefly flickered around the room, shedding a blaze in every direction.

Mac was harshly jolted so as his back faced the man. Without hesitation he began to resist, he did not like to be pushed around. Detective Mac Taylor was the head of the NYPD Crime lab, he would not be hand cuffed in his lab, in front of the team. He would not be handcuffed at all. "You have the ri-"  
"_What_ do you think you're doing?" Mac interrupted the larger man as he tried to restrain him again. Mac shrugged away for the second time, scowling. Mac smiled, realising he could easily over power him if completely necessary. He would not be made a fool of, not by this man, not by anybody.

After staring at the photograph of missing 9-year old Mollie Granger, Jo had come to a stand still; the answer had not jumped out at her, like she'd hoped. The case was at a dead end, literally, their prime suspect had been found, in an ally, beaten and killed with a bullet through his chest. The evidence had been sent to another team on jurisdiction grounds or so the New York team had been told. Something about the story that had been spun didn't seem to ring true. The whole investigation had been taken over by some official looking people in suits. With nothing to do, Jo had been repositioning her brightly coloured sticky notes so that she had sufficient enough space to use her keyboard and access her computer. Her head snapped up in the direction of Mac's office when suddenly she heard the commotion coming from across the hall. Immediately she dialled security and swiftly manoeuvred around her desk heading directly the source of the trouble to investigate, her hand placed lightly upon her firearm as she hurried into Mac's office.

"Excuse Me?" She asked, to which both the arresting officer and Mac turned to face her direction. Mac felt a little embarrassed, if he was going to be arrested it was now going to be in front of Jo.

"I have a warrant for Detective Taylor's arrest." The words cut through the air like a knife through butter, Mac's heart sank as the words echoed in their ears. Hope began to leave and dread filled the void that had been left in his heart.

"And you are…?"

"Captain Roy." The man replied, obviously irritated. "Kevin Roy." Mac cocked his head around the man standing between him and Jo as three security men arrived in a hurry, only minutes after the initial call. When seeing their new guests and the unconvinced expressions the Captain pulled out his badge to prove his authority. He was in fact a Captain with the NYPD and he did have the authority to be there. However if Mac had been in his shoes, he would have presented his badge first off to avoid complicating the situation. The security guards left with a quick, short nod of apology and embarrassment. Reporting "False alarm" Over the radio as they went.

"What do you mean you have a warrant?" Jo shook her head with frustration, still in complete disbelief of the fact he was there to arrest her close friend and work college. "Do you know who this man is?" She smiled as Mac, trying to reassure herself more than anyone else, that this was just a misunderstanding that had been blown widely out of proportion.

"Yes I do, and frankly I don't have time for this." With an irritated huff, he pulled out a sheet of folded paper from the inside of his jacket and provided Jo with the arrest warrant. The ink was still wet.

Jo gasped as she read the contents. Signed by judge Wilcox, indicating that it was a certified and legal document. Don, accompanied by a woman in her early 30's, arrived and stood by the door as Jo stepped further in.

Having not read the entirety of the letter, she was still having difficulties in believing this stupidity. "On what grounds?"

"Look lady, I don't see what business it is of yours. Can't you read? I don't even see what you're doing here; you're just a failed, good for nothing FBI Agent! Why you are nothing more than white trash! Get out of the way so I can get out of here and take him to booking!" Captain Roy seemed furious with Jo, and she'd done nothing wrong.

'You Bastard!' Mac snapped in his head. A short burst of uncontrollable rage pulsed through Mac's veins. Suddenly Captain Roy let out a large yelping groan, when a sharp pain was cast just below his seventh rib on his left side. Mac had plunged a fist into him. He had not used all of it strength, but it was hard enough to warn him not to say something like that again. Mac had never lost control like that before; usually he managed to keep his cool. Apparently he could not in a situation like this and under these circumstances. Whether it was solely due to him being arrested or someone disrespecting Jo in such a manner, he wasn't sure but somehow it had lead to violence. "You really ought to learn some manners." Mac spat at him, disgusted with the way the captain had just addressed his friend.

Jo was a little shaken with what was unravelling in front of her eyes. Mac, her closest friend, someone she cared for deeply was being accused of murder and he'd just hit his arresting officer for being provocative. She was appalled with the way in which the captain conducted himself and his general manner towards them. In a mild state of shock she froze and stood with a confused look etched upon her face. Mac had just punched him!

Don looked as though he could breathe fire if he so desired, he was anger for the fact that Mac was being arrested when that was not the agreed term back at the precinct and he was furious for the Captain's choice of such appalling and distasteful words. In an event of violence or the suspect resisting arrest he was supposed to restrain Mac, but instead he smirked and watched the man lean against the table for support in minor pain. Mac wasn't a threat; he wasn't going to severely injure the Captain. Flack had half a mind to throw in his two cents for Jo himself and give the discriminating moron a whack as well, however he smiled politely and felt an odd sense of pride for Mac for having the courage to thump him.

Suddenly he felt a short, sharp, pain in his own ribs and his smile was cut short and in its place appeared a frown. The brunette had a face of thunder and had elbowed him harshly to convey that her opinions on the matter were that he should intervene. Don looked down at her with a cold-hearted glare, showing that he didn't give a rat's ass what she thought. Soon enough a small crowd of Lab employees began to form around the entrance to the boss's office, most of which were either alarmed or perplexed at the sight before them.

Mac was a private man; he didn't like people sticking their noses in his business when it was not welcome. Don did his best to remove them but that only seemed to alert more people to the situation. Once the captain had taken a minute to recover, and his reinforcement was still standing there doing nothing, he straightened himself up and brushed his suit down, "Well you've just added assaulting an officer to you're charge, congratulations." He said sarcastically.

"What happened to the professional courtesy we talked about?" Flack's tone was enraged as he questioned his superior, suggesting that the captain deserved what he got. The agreement was that Mac should have been taken down to the station without handcuffs for questioning. There never should have even been a request for a warrant. Someone higher up was pulling the strings. However he wasn't in the mood to hear the pathetic excuses that would inevitably come from the Captain and so he turned to address his friend.  
"Sorry Mac." Don's apology was filled with pain and sincerity, entwined with an almost broken thread in his voice. Mac's head snapped up at the sound of his friend's strained tone. He knew that this wasn't Don's fault. In fact he knew that Don had done everything in his power to avoid this very situation.  
"I asked them to do this some place else." Don said, sheepishly stepping up into the office so that he was next to Jo. The woman was behind, still lingering in the doorway, Mac took a quick second glance and recognised her instantly, he groaned in a manner that indicated that he was less than impressed with her presence. She was a woman of whom Mac had seen too much of already today, Stephanie Brooks was the ringleader of the second internal investigation against him, she had been questioning him about the death of the prime suspect of their most recent kidnapping case. Something about cross contamination and violating procedure, Mac rolled his eyes at the thought.

"What!" Jo shrieked a little above a whisper. 'Why did this have to be done _anywhere?_' she thought to herself, 'never mind in the lab'. Jo glanced down again at the trembling paper in her hands and read the charge. Murder. "Are you kidding me?" She closed her eyes tightly, and a tear escaped her grasp. She was still hoping that there must have been some kind of a mistake.

"No, we don't joke about murder, Ms Danville." The Captain said patronisingly. Mac scowled, he often used the initial part of that phrase when interrogating suspects, he regularly said to criminals when they asked if the situation they were in was a joke. The Captain had obviously observed him in interrogations before.

Mac was checked for weapons and then when Captain Roy was satisfied that he had none, one by one Mac's arms were disrespectfully yanked behind his back. The metal slid onto his wrists with ease and they were tightly fastened. Not that they would do much good, Mac knew how to get out of standard issue police handcuffs if need be. He however, was not concerned by this for the time being. If Captain Kevin Roy needed him to be restrained, then he would be, even if it was just for show. Don looked across the room feeling helpless, he didn't like to see Mac like this.

Mac didn't like the image of being handcuffed, he'd been in them for all of a couple of seconds and already he could feel the judgemental glares fixating on him. In an attempt to calm himself, Mac focused his mind to what did interest him, the arrest. What had led the NYPD to believe he had killed someone? That seemed to be the bigger mystery.

Adam suddenly bounced around an open door on the other side of the room, humming to himself. "Mac, you can thank me later but I think we got a case break-" He stopped himself short and swallowed. "er…" He finished and stood staring open mouthed at the whole situation.

In the circumstances Mac forced a small smile. That was Adam just being… Adam. Jo scowled at him and Adam appeared to shrink as his eyes reverted to the floor in shame.

"McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," The captain said for the second time, but this time before he was interrupted again, he continued swiftly. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the state of New York. Do you understand these rights?" With a slight nod, Mac agreed that he knew both the Miranda warning and his constitutional rights.

Adam built up the courage to briefly glanced at Mac; Mac didn't have the 'guilty' look. "Get outta here. Mac didn't kill anyone." He resorted to with a small nervous laugh, still not convinced that Mac was actually getting arrested.

It was the Captain's turn to fire an unimpressed scowl at Adam.  
"A Jury can be the judge of that." He grabbed Mac's arm and began to lead him out of the comforts of his office.

A gut-wrenching ache began to form in the pit of Mac's stomach; a nauseating sensation threatened the floor. He had never been taken into custody before, Mac was a law-abiding citizen, he paid his taxes, and he worked to serve and protect the city of New York. While he had taken another human being's life before, it was always in the name of the job. He had always been cleared, both in the Marines and on the NYPD.

Unfortunately he hadn't shot anybody in his line of work recently, meaning that whatever they thought they had on him wasn't a result of a 'bad or good shoot' where he had to surrender his weapon and be cleared a day or so later. They actually genially believed that he'd gone out one day and killed someone. Not anyone, either. Mac began to piece it together in his head, they thought that he'd gone out and killed the kidnapper of 9-year-old Mollie Granger, the only person that knew where she was. Mac hoped that the team that had taken over the case found the girl in time.

• • •

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**Author Note:**

**I would absolutely love to hear what you think of Chapter One! Your Reviews from my story 'Secrets' without fail made my day! So if you have either some constructive criticism or some friendly advice please let me know. If anybody has a particular way they would like the story to flow, I am always open to suggestions. I have been quiet excited about getting the idea typed up, so if you don't like it please help me improve!  
**

**Thank you for reading! Go ahead punk, Make my day! Send me a review ;D  
**


	2. Chapter 2

CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Two - Custody_

Mac was uncivilly thrown in an empty custody cell like a common criminal. Although he had done nothing further to fight the inevitable, they treated him like garbage. The guard wiped his hands together as if cleaning them, getting rid of any filth accumulated by Mac, by a criminal. With a laugh he and the accompanying officer left. Leaving Mac to his own devices.

Mac desperately tried to ignore the condition of the cell but to little avail. He spent little time down here, and for good reason. He however was grateful to Don who he assumed had managed to get him a cell alone, apposed to one with many other criminals who may not take too kindly to a cop.

In the 12th precinct's holding facility there were two adjoining corridors on a 'V' angle with cells placed opposite each other. In the middle there was a Guard's office and the exit. Mac was completely separate from anybody else, as a safety precaution. Don had arranged it in such a way so as Mac was alone in corridor B, while general arrests went to corridor A. He was completely closed of from the rest of the world; he was isolated.

Taking a deep breath Mac reminded himself of a remark that Don made to him a few weeks ago. "These holding cells smell F.A.B – of Feet, Ass, and Balls." He remembered laughing at his friend's summery, but on this occasion Don was absolutely right, there was no exaggeration. It was grim. The last people in this cell were more than likely homeless, with a severe lack in general hygiene; there was no telling how many different sources of human biologicals were present. Mac scrunched his nose at the thought, he was a forensic scientist, and he'd dealt with much worse, however being in close proximity was off putting to say the least. Mac sighed and decided that the worst thing about the cell was the fact there was no way to let fresh air circulate. The rotten smell just lingered in the space around him and he felt as if there was no room to breathe. The room in which he was being incarcerated was vial.

He had to wait in suspense until the police were ready for the interview. Having not had much sleep the night previously, he lay down on the bench in the cell. Being alone was not something he enjoyed and with nothing to do, he had no choice but to allow his mind to wonder, which quiet often he was plunged head first into unpredictable memories of the past. There was however only one thing on his mind. The shooting.

_His forefinger rested on the trigger and with a glint of determination in his eyes, the stare never broke. He aimed with precision, carefully squeezing down he pulled the trigger. The firearm shook violently in his hand as it fired. Without any force or hesitation, the bullet sliced into the target. The hole was placed effortlessly through the firing line and into its destination. The shot sounded loudly through the air, echoing into his ears, sending a mental quiver down his spine. With the harsh recoil of the gun, a brief jolt of adrenaline rippled throughout his body, however he remained calm. Strangely this was a somewhat familiar feeling, one he wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to. One thing was certain; Mac knew how to fire a gun._

Mac was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts as he had been to occupied in his memory to hear the approaching footsteps.  
"McKenna Taylor." The custody guard called. Mac got to his feet and looked around, pulling his hand through his hair. He was still the only person there in custody.

"There's a Detective Danville to see you." The guard was young and inexperienced; he didn't know the proper procedure or who Mac was. Mac nodded and the guard aloud her in.

"Mac!" Jo said, as she ran to the bars. Mac felt trapped. He clutched hold of the metal as she approached, he could go no further.

"Are you okay?" Mac asked, remembering the name calling session that had occurred earlier and ended with Mac's fist in the Captain's ribs.

"Me?" Jo asked briefly exasperated, "What about _you!_"

He looked down and shifted on his feet a little. "I'm Good." He lied, not wanting to cause unnecessary concern on his behalf, with a small nod. He deliberately avoided eye contact with Jo, he didn't want to show weakness. Jo knew Mac, and that was the oldest trick in the book.

"Well that's a load of crap and you know it." She said quickly, not afraid to look into Mac's beautiful blue green eyes. "Mac, you're in _custody!_ You're certainly not '_Good_.'" She whispered, showing a stronger, raw emotion of empathy and concern than she had intended.

Admitting he was wrong, he sighed and genuinely smiled at her. Using only his eyes, he told her that he was hanging on in there, of which she understood, but she also saw the tremendous amount pain and confusion he was faced with.

"Have you spoken to Christine?" Mac asked gingerly. He did not want her to know where he was. On the same note, he couldn't avoid their plans by just not showing up, so at some point she would have to be notified to his whereabouts so that a search and rescue party was not launched in his absence.

Jo looked almost apologetic and reverted her gaze to the floor, feeling that she should have told Christine, despite her initial thoughts. She wrapped her hand around the same bar Mac was clutching and looked up at him. "I thought, maybe it would be better coming from you."

Mac knew that she was right. He just wasn't sure quite how to explain that he was in custody. It was getting later into the evening now; he would probably end up spending the night at this rate. Not a prospect he relished.

"I'm just not that good at that kind of thing." Mac admitted out loud although he hadn't deliberately meant to.

Jo swallowed. Ever since admitting to Christine in the hospital when Mac's life was in danger that she loved him, her attraction to him had gotten deeper, more passionate. She knew that there had been a spark from the day they met, now more that anything she wanted to show him her roaring flame cast within her chest that thudded for him daily. Unfortunately, she knew that it was a very one sided feeling and didn't wish to disturb his happiness, especially since she had encouraged him to start with. But she did love him, she felt as if her heart was behind bars, unable to reach out to Mac. Mac held the keys.

Mac noticed her sudden ridged posture.

"Jo?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled honestly, but slightly saddened.

The guard appeared again and said that their time was up. Jo held her finger up at him, informing him that they hadn't finished talking yet. The young man opened the separating doors and looked around the corner into the other corridor and down the hallway and saw no one other than other temporary inmates.

"You have five minutes." He said, not having the balls or the physical strength to throw Jo out.

Jo placed her hand on top of Mac's. Even he couldn't deny that there was a connection between them that he hadn't felt before. He looked down and stared at their hands for a moment, she gently moved her fingers over his. They had a mutual feeling that it was the most natural thing to do. "I'm gonna get you out of here." She promised lovingly. Mac wished that he hadn't been restrained from the metal bars. He wasn't sure what would have happened if they weren't there, but he was certain he didn't want to be on the opposite side to where Jo was. They gazed deeply into each other's eyes for what seemed like eternity. For a short moment he was at peace, he forgot the rest of the world, he forgot that he was in a custody holding cell. He forgot the accusations of murder pending against him; all that mattered was he and Jo. Jo suddenly came to the realisation that she'd over stepped the mark and without another word she left, leaving Mac still at the barred door of his cell. He stood there, helpless.

"Excuse me?" Mac asked politely to the guard when his patrol reached his side of the holding facility. When the young man's attention moved from his phone to Mac, Mac continued, "I think I'd like my phone call now please."

The guard looked surprised at Mac's manners, he nodded and unlocked the cell. Once he had re-cuffed Mac, though this time his hands were handcuffed in front of him, he took him to a row of old tatty phones that he was allowed to use at the end of the hallway.

Mac picked up the phone and frowned. Did Christine's cell number end in 186 or 681? He decided to abandon that idea and call her landline instead, with any luck; she'd be at her apartment. He could only hope as he'd had little good fortune so far.

• • •

Christine was in fact at her apartment when she heard the phone ring. She, at the time, was deciding which shoes to wear for the date later. She picked up the landline and glanced at the number before speaking, it wasn't one she recognised.

"Hello?" She asked sceptically, half expecting it to be some moron trying to sell her something useless.

"_Hi Christine, it's Mac." _He did his best at a normal tone. He was unstable and was confused at what had happened with Jo. Though nothing _had_ happened, so he had nothing to feel guilty about. Or did he?

"Oh, Hello Mac." She said in a happier manner with a shallow laugh. Mac started a conversation as normally as possible. He didn't want to alarm her straight away.

"Where did you say you are?"

"_At the precinct."_

"Well if you meet me at-"

"_Christine I can't. I'm a little tied up right now. I'm so sor-"_

"Mac! You promised you wouldn't stay late tonight." Christine quickly protested, whining in fear of all her preparations going to waste again.

"_Christine, I literally can't." _The phone went quiet for a moment as Mac figured out how best to explain the situation he'd found himself in, not that he was entirely sure what the hell was going on. In the silence a young man's voice cut in 'Time's almost up.' _"I've been taken into custody, if they interview me tonight then I could be out later. It's a serious charge and I think I'm most likely to spend the night here. If the DA seriously wants to press charges – Which I doubt – there'll be a bail hearing tomorrow morning. I've got to go. I truly am sorry about our plans." _

The line went dead as Mac hung up. 'What the hell? Taken into custody? For what?' Questions began to circle in her mind. Why hadn't Mac said he was innocent? She looked around her apartment at her new bought dress for the occasion. This wasn't the first time this had happened. She scowled; somehow she came to the conclusion that she had Mac to blame for ruining her evening. "What have you done Mac?" She whispered out loud to herself. What had Mac done to get himself banged up?

• • •

'Well that went well.' Mac sarcastically told himself, as he was being lead back to the cell. In a strange sense he was glad he didn't have to go on a date with Christine tonight, though he was sorry for the circumstances in which he had to miss it. He might have enjoyed it. After work he just wanted to relax and unwind. He often felt that it was a lot of work while being with Christine, she didn't always get his sense of humour, sometimes they just ran out of things to talk about. Mac didn't want to bore her about his work and Christine didn't want to bore him with cooking. The hot topic of conversation was usually the past, and the memories they shared, but aside from Stan and the past, they didn't have anything in common. Sometimes Mac found it too difficult to keep diving into the past that had long been buried, it was unsettling. His past of long ago was something he could never have back. It was too painful to think about Stan and Claire, people that he missed dearly, both of which had been taken from this world unfairly. The past itself wasn't too bad; he had many happy memories that he was fond of. It was the reality that hit him with tremendous force of hurt and pain, the knowledge that he could never see them again. The fact that the memories were just memories and that hurt him further than words could express. It felt like daggers had been thrust into his heart, the pain was excruciating and almost too much to bear as it twisted and dug further into his emotions. In his adult life, he had only cried in front of one person, Claire. Now she was gone a part of him was missing. Something that didn't seem to effect Christine. She seemed to have had a better way of dealing with her loss, but then different people had different ways of dealing with tragedy.

"McKenna Taylor." Another guard called before Mac reached back to his cell. He was getting used to his lengthy name once again. He used to hear it a lot when he was a kid, usually when he got into trouble. "You're state appointed lawyer is here." Mac heard a door buzz open and the man was let in.

Mac's appointed lawyer was Richard Thomson. He wasn't sure whether he would need a separate lawyer or not. He would decide after the first interview.

"Mac." Thomson greeted him, putting his hand out to shake but then realised in embarrassment that Mac's hand were tied in handcuffs. Mac and Thomson were not complete strangers; in fact it had been Thomson that had represented Mac with his last internal investigation.

"Richard." Mac said in a strictly business tone. He didn't want to be here any longer.

Mac was un-handcuffed once inside his cell once again and Richard was aloud in, but he was locked in with Mac for the duration of his visit. Thomson had a brown leather briefcase with him and two thick case files.

"As you well know, another lab took over Mollie Granger's case when your suspect was found dead." Thomson started, picking up the thickest file. "Taylor, do you know the reason for that?" Mac considered his answer, he hadn't actually been informed but he knew. "My DNA was found on the victim." That much Internal Affairs had been kind enough to tell him. "They thought the case might be compromised."

"Yes" He nodded "and no." he shook his head accordingly. "They could explain some of the evidence that you found at the crime scene but not all."

"I had an altercation with the suspect yesterday. I pinned him to the wall. DNA and trace transferred during that time."

Thomson shut his eyes; Mac simply wasn't willing to hear what he had to say. "I know, they explained that." In a short temper he opened his briefcase and showed Mac a ballistics report. The 9mm calibre gun had striae patterns that matched in the database.

"What?" Mac murmured just above a whisper as he felt his whole world collapse down on top of him. He wouldn't believe his deceiving eyes. Complete panic started enclose his heart, he wouldn't have noticed his lack of breathing if for the fact that the loud thud of his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He swallowed in despair, trying to make sense of the unravelling case in front of him. For the second time in hours Mac felt physically sick, usually he wouldn't let his emotions go this far. Before long his defensive barrier was up and Mac, for the first time in a long time had frozen, his brain wouldn't function. He no longer had the ability to concentrate. What he saw wasn't possible.

"How do you explain this?" Thomson prompted, jabbing his finger into the paper where the result was located, harshly pulling Mac from his dreading spell of thoughts.

Mac looked up at him in horror. "_I_ didn't shoot him!" was the only thing that came to mind. The lawyer looked unconvinced.

Mac read the report again. Ballistics match to Detective Mac Taylor's service weapon. Mac took the paper in his hands. "I don't understand." He mumbled again. The door opened. "Taylor." The older guard grunted hoarsely "The Captain's are ready to conduct their interrogation now. Would you like to come with me."

Mac nodded. It was more of a statement than a question because as he didn't have a choice but to comply. The more experienced guard wasted no time handcuffing him and pulling out of the cell to lead him through the precinct and eventually to the interview rooms.

• • •

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**Author Note:**

**So usually I suck at getting Chapters up really quickly. I am not promising anything, but I am going to do my best to update regularly and not go months on end without a word. How'd I do for this Chapter?  
**

**Thank you to nexis44 and tlh45 Who have already reviewed!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Three - Interrogation_

Mac placed his handcuffed hands on the steel table with a loud clang and waited side by side with his lawyer, of whom he was an inch away from firing. Thomson didn't believe him; he wouldn't do everything in his power in court to save him from prison. Even being the head of the NYPD Crime Lab didn't exonerate him from a murder charge. Mac, at this rate would go to jail. The silence and anticipation was almost unbearable, he found himself predicting seconds of the ticking clock that hung behind him. He told himself something that he told many people that had been sat on this side of the table, 'If you're innocent, you've got nothing to worry about.' However this didn't ease his mind in the slightest.

That idealistic term faded completely as he saw d Captain Roy and a colleague of his at the door. He remembered punching Captain Roy earlier. His reasoning behind that was that Captain Roy was being provocative, which was true. However it was not going to look good and was not an excuse.

"Detective Taylor." The other man taunted as he walked in, Mac recognised him as a friend of Sinclair's; this was not going to end well. "Looks like the tables have finally turned," He joked, pointing out that Mac was on the other side of the interrogation table, "you are finally going to get the punishment you deserve." It was a cheep shot; Detective Burns was trying to hold him accountable for the death of Clay Dobson in 2007. Of which Mac had already been cleared for, both by the DA and Internal Affairs.

"Sounds like you have already made your minds up." Mac's posture remained rigid. He was in his military mode; he had been trained to with hold information and face and bear torture in the Marines if he was required to, not that he was going to in this situation, he had nothing to hide. Burns noticed his tough display, and assumed that Mac was attempting to with hold the truth. The truth was that Mac's military training was his primitive nature and he had slipped into it by default. When under pressure in previous incidents, it had been the soul reason that his life had been spared. He'd saved lives several times based on his training, and he was thankful for it. He sat ready to take anything that the captain's threw his way. He tried to convince himself that he felt ready for anything.

"For safety purposes we have decided to record this interview." Captain Roy said strongly while scowling at Mac. Burns happily placed a voice recorder onto the table. The red light repetitively flashed on and off being the second main source of light in this particularly dim room. "I am Captain Kevin Roy, the interviewer. The date is July 12th twenty-twelve. The time now is ten fifty-six pm; with me in the room is George Burns. The suspect is McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior, arrested on the suspicion of murder in the first degree. His lawyer, Richard Thomson, is also present."

Thomson briefly glanced at Mac, expecting him to show some kind of emotion; Remorse, anger, pain, confusion. Mac didn't flinch at anything that was said, it was almost as if he was switched off.

"McKenna Taylor, could you tell us your whereabouts during the hours of yesterday evening?"

"I could." Mac said coldly, "Would you like me to?"

The men on the right side of the table sighed at each other, "Yes Mr. Taylor."

"The team and I had been investigating a missing persons case of a 9-year-old, Mollie Granger. Her parents identified Mr. Gregory Williams as a man they saw lingering outside the school gates of which she attended. I interviewed him at around 6pm. As you know the first few hours of a child's abduction is crucial and so I used necessary force to obtain information that might lead to the whereabouts to the missing girl." Mac paused for a short while, recalling what had happened after that.

"Mr Williams was released as we did not have enough evidence to hold him on. The school's CCTV camera couldn't reveal whether or not the man outside the school was our suspect. He was released on bail. I then went back to the lab for a few hours."

"At what time did you leave the lab Mr. Taylor?" Captain Roy asked, but was interrupted by a tap on the door to which he responded by standing up and exiting.

"For the benefit of the tape, Captain Kevin Roy has just left the room." In the silence Mac reverted back to his thoughts from earlier while they waited for him to return.

_One thing was certain; Mac knew how to fire a gun._

"_Mac, How come you're so good at __everything?__" Adam whined after he fired his gun and having not hit the target at all. His ego had taken a severe knock and he looked shamefully at the floor. The bullet had gone haywire; nowhere near the bullseye, where Mac's five other bullets had gone._

_Mac smiled to himself, "I'm can't play golf, if it's any consolation." Although he was trying to make his friend feel a little better it was only a half- truth. It hadn't been a serious game as an over active 3 year old kept running around picking up all the balls before anyone could take a shot._

"_Yeah Right." Adam huffed "I bet you're just saying that." knowing that his boss just seemed to have a talent for everything, from x-box games and disarming bombs to playing chess and using all kinds of weaponry and unarmed defences. Mac could also put endless amount of rounds into a human target practice sheet without batting an eyelid._

"_C'mon Adam. Focus." Mac said sternly, and with a great sense of authority in his tone. Adam was snapped out of his slight daze, he knew that if he wanted to ever become a CSI, he would have to pass the firearm's exam. It was a safety regulation and Mac wanted him to pass._

"_Mac its no use, I can't hit this thing." Adam signed flinging his arm in the air aimlessly, feeling guilty that he'd dragged Mac all the way down here to help him and he was useless and unable to hit the target at all._

"_Don't hit it, shoot it." Mac playfully picked up on his choice of words. Adam spun on his feet to face away from his friend a secretly rolled his eyes at himself._

_Mac was usually a very busy man and more than likely had more productive things to be doing this evening. Adam wanted nothing more than to go home, it was late and he failed at __shooting__ targets._

"_You giving up?" Mac asked rhetorically, to which Adam instinctively looked around again and shook his head solemnly._

"_No Boss." He wanted to be out on the field, everyone knew he did. As much fun as being the lab-rat geek was, he wanted to put the evidence into context. He wanted to see the whole puzzle rather than just a test tube. He wanted to move up in his career and not be at the bottom of the chain._

_Adam slide the goggles back on his face and aimed. 'Focus' he told himself in the same tone Mac had. He consciously regulated his breathing, and concentration hit his face. The trigger was pulled. _

_To his surprise the bullet sliced into the target, he'd hit the bullseye._

"_Mac did you just see that! Who'd da man? I am the maaan!" Adam squealed excitedly, pointing at himself and dancing a little. "Put it there!" He held up his hand in a high five gesture._

_At first Mac shot a look at Adam that wordlessly said 'No.' but Adam was far too happy and it wasn't Mac's place to alter his good mood. Mac was proud of him. He held his hand up for it to be slapped lightly by Adam, who was still dancing in a peculiar manner._

"_A few more shots like that and you're set." Mac praised, with the nod of approval._

"_Gee, thanks boss." Adam grinned with pride. He was slightly concerned that his shot had been a fluke but he didn't want to stick around to find out. He was happy to leave on a positive note, Adam intentionally yawned, "I-Eee-I. I'm tired." He clarified, looking at his watch seeing that it was around 10:30pm "I think I'm gonna call it a night."_

_Mac nodded and disarmed the firearm he had been using. _

"At what time did you leave the lab Mr. Taylor?" Captain Roy had returned, looking very serious and Detective Burns was back on the questioning.

"I left the lab at around 9pm with a work colleague and friend of mine, Adam Ross. He and I went to the police stations firing range so that I could instruct him."

"Would you describe yourself as a good shot?" Burns Asked.

Mac knew that he didn't have to answer that, seeing as that was how Gregory Williams had been killed, but Thomson informed him anyway. Mad nodded once.

"My client chooses not to answer that."

"Mr. Taylor, at what time did you leave the firing range?

"Adam and I parted ways at about 10:45 pm."

"Where did you go?" Captain Burns scowled; he was acting as if it was a crime to be alone.

"I went home, I had a shower and I went to bed." Mac said agitated, "Alone." He added, just to clarify. He didn't do what they were accusing him of and he wanted to prove it.

"It says in you're medical records that you suffer from chronic insomnia."

"So?"

"Do you?"

"That's what it says, doesn't it?"

"Did you sleep for the entire night?"

Mac gritted his teeth, he couldn't remember the last time he slept for the whole night.

"No. I woke at about 2 am the following morning; I went for a run to clear my head. I ran to central park and back. I was gone… maybe an hour. I stayed up for the next hour or so watching T.V. Then I was called out to a crime scene at 4am. An Internal Affairs Lady, Stephanie Brooks, told me to surrender my weapon, of which I did. I then stayed at the lab until you arrested me."

"So you were alone, with no alibi, from 10:45 'till 4am?" Burns asked.

"Yes."

"Plenty of time to commit the murder."

"N-"

"Which brings us to out second thing." Captain Roy cut in with a more powerful, overwhelming voice than Mac had tried using in his denial of his part in the murder.

"The bullet that was pulled from Mr. Williams matches your gun, would you like to explain that for us?"

"I don't know." Mac admitted, feeling like he was loosing a never-ending battle.

"Do you ever leave you gun unattended?" Detective Burns said, thinking about getting Mac on violating police procedure as well as murder.

"No." Mac answered honestly, knowing the standard procedure, a police issue firearm had to be safely locked away when it wasn't in the position of the owner. "I don't carry my gun when I jog." Mac said, speaking the truth when it came to mind.

"Where was it while you went out?"

"Locked in a closet where I keep my bullets, my badge, my wedding ring, and anything I consider to be of value." Mac bit back sourly.

"So how was it that the same gun that was locked away, killed someone a few blocks away? Your suspect nonetheless." Burns shook his head disapprovingly at Mac.

"We know you did it Taylor. We have the evidence to prove it - Something of which you're familiar with. We just don't know why."

"I don't know how my gun was used, but I'm telling you. I. DIDN'T. DO. IT. The evidence has to support an alternative theory."

Mac remembered the last time he was accused of murder; he just got up and walked out of the preliminary hearing. He wanted nothing more than to be able to walk out of this too. The heavy metal around his wrist suggested that he had no choice but to stay. It did more than just suggest, it wasn't optional. He didn't want to sit around and be called a lair, a criminal, a murderer.

"If there is one thing I hate, Taylor." Roy growled. "It's liars!" He smashed his fist on the table and standing up, he leant forward so that he was in Mac's face "What is it you always preach?" He paused to taunt him. "The Evidence never lies."

He slammed a clear evidence bag on the table.

"Mr. Taylor, can you tell me what exhibit 5A034 looks like to you?" He turned and began to pace in the room.

Mac looked at the blue shirt. At first he did not recognize it with blood spatter and smears staining the fabric. It was in fact, yesterday's choice of shirt.

"What's this?" He sounded outraged.

"We've had a group of forensic scientists from Internal Affairs, the FBI and New Jersey PD analyze the evidence pending against you. Trying to be as unbiased as possible."

Burns pointed to the cuff where it was now stained in blue. "This is GSR."

"I know," Mac interrupted. "I explained that. I went to the firing range, I discharged a firearm then."

"This blood is a match to Gregory Williams." A photograph that Mac had taken at the scene was thrown on the table of the beaten, bloody man, lying in the ally.

"So you what? You think I beat and shot him?"

"That's exactly what we think, yes."

"The only other DNA we found on the shirt was epithelials and sweat, yours." Burns pointed at Mac. "It is defiantly a shirt you wore."

"So to recap." Roy said harshly. "You have no alibi for the time of the murder, you conveniently happen to be jogging and at home, alone. A gun that only you have access to was the murder weapon. Your DNA was on the victim. Your shirt was found in your trashcan in your apartment with the victim's blood all over it. You live only a few blocks from where the body was found. We are doing more tests that _will_ match you're fingerprints to the shell casing you recovered from the scene. Only your and Stephanie Brooks' fingerprints were found on the murder weapon and she has been cleared. Which leads us right back to you."

All this evidence did mean he was a good candidate for their prime suspect. Except for the fact that he didn't do it.

"I'm being framed!" Mac declared strongly. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense.

"Yeah." Detective Burns said less than convinced of Mac's theory and then turned to Roy. "That's what he's going with."

"Well I can't thi-" -_nk of another explanation_ Mac was about to say but he was rudely interrupted by the Captian.

"One more thing." He waited for Mac to show him a look of confusion. "We have a witness that places you at the murder, and she is willing to testify."

"What? Who?" Mac asked, now he was getting worked. A witness? She was lying! Mac felt pounds of emptiness enter him. She couldn't have seen him because he wasn't there. Why were they saying otherwise? Were they being coerced into saying these things? Were they part of the set up? Were they making stuff up? Surely they realised he was familiar with policing interrogation techniques.

"The girl that called your mess into 911 and alerted the police at 4 in the morning."

"Have you asked her what _she _was doing there at 4 in the morning?" Mac's detective brain was in over drive, thinking fast on his feet.

"Yeah, she was looking for her cat."

"At 4 in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"You'll believe that but not me, someone with a _sleeping disorder_, going for some exercise?"

"Yes. Her DNA isn't all over the crime scene."

"She picked you out of a line up of photo's with no hesitation whatsoever." Burn's butted in, getting impatient. "You're going down Taylor. Finally you're going down."

"What could possibly have been my motive? Why would I have killed Gregory Williams?" Mac was clutching at straws, in their minds they no longer needed a motive, they had means, opportunity and evidence.

The walls of the room were starting to take their toll on Mac and they were closing in, though he didn't let it show. The red flashing light and the flickering bulb of the overhead light began to give him a headache. This nightmare gave him a headache. He'd had enough and he wanted to go home, get up and walk out of here. Unfortunately he was in serious trouble. Nobody could rescue him, though he was being falsely imprisoned. He did not commit the crime that they were charging him with.

"Well you and you're team had some interesting ideas before the case was pulled from them. They seemed to think that someone close to the case, or someone in the police department beat him to try and gain information about the girl's whereabouts. And then shot him in a rage when they got nowhere. Sound familiar to you?"

"I am innocent!" Mac exclaimed before thinking.

How many criminals had sat where he was and shouted that? How many had actually been found guilty in the trial? How many were innocent? Mac knew only one truth, he was innocent. They thought they had him. The fight was far from over.

• • •

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**Author Note:**

**Well there you have it. Chapter 3. I hope that explained a bit ;D Hope you like the update! Send me a review to let me know what you think! Dunno Whether I'll be able to get a chapter up tomorrow.. I'll see what I can do..  
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**Not really had time to proof read it, so I hope it turned out okay. If there is anything that desperately needs changing I will change it when I can (:  
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**Until Next time...**

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**Author Note #2 :  
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**Ok well I made a very silly error with the Facts of my story. Urh FacePalm. I feel so Silly. Anyway I have corrected it quickly in the hope that not many people have read all the faults :$  
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**Thank you Sam Waterston Fan for pointing it out. I wouldn't have even noticed :O  
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**Hope You all enjoyed the chapter (:  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Four – Believing the Lies_

The odd clangs of chains and keys would echo throughout the holding cells in hours that Mac had returned to his cell during that night. There wasn't even the sound of a ticking clock to keep the beat; there was nothing but silence and irregular sounds. Mac was completely and utterly alone, and with no one to turn to, his mind was in overdrive. Hoping to solve his case without even examining the evidence and creating possible scenario in his head. The guard's footsteps would rhythmically stomp through the hallway every once in a while. Mac guessed that these men patrolled once every half an hour, but he couldn't be sure, he wasn't even sure of the time. Not that there was much point in these regular inspections, Mac was the only suspect being held in this section and he wasn't going anywhere.

He had been taken back to the holding cells after the interrogation and spent the nights in his suit. A pile of orange fabric was slammed onto the bench close to where Mac was sitting.

"You're gonna want to change you're clothes." He was told sternly.

"I'm not wearing those." Mac stated nodding to the pile of orange custody uniform, thinking that he would change his clothes later; he could ask Christine to drop him off another suit if she visited today.

"Right now, you don't have a choice." The guard snarled. "The forensic scientist's want your clothes. Get changed. Now."

"I _am_ a forensic scientist. Why do they want my suit?" Mac asked, tugging slightly at the bottom of him jacket in confusion. Knowing that the clothes he was wearing would have evidence of the crime scene on them because he went there in this suit at four that morning. He wasn't wearing that suit at the time of the crime. So what was the purpose of obtaining his suit as evidence? Even if it was dirty, it was better than wearing orange.

Over the years working with the badge, the custody uniform and prison uniforms had certain connotations. Guilty, criminal, convict, ill mannered, dirty, bad, were all words that came to mind. Mac didn't like to think of himself as any of the above. He didn't want to been seen as a criminal.

"Honestly I don't care." The man snapped. "They've asked for it, and that's that." No one thought that Mac was innocent they had concluded his guilt on the fact he had been arrested in the first place. People liked to think that the police did their jobs well and arrested the guilty people straight away. To Mac the evidence seemed a point to him a little too much. There were usually a few people in which his department interviewed as people of interest with almost every case. Mac seemed to have already been convicted in the minds of the detectives investigating. He was being framed; there was no other explanation. Someone wanted him to go down for this and so far, they were succeeding. They had him so dead to rights he might even be refused bail. Not that he could pay it anyway; bail for a murder was usually around One Million dollars and only with a judge's permission. He could never raise that. He wanted bail because he would turn up at court; it would give the jury something else to think about. Why would he turn up at court if he were guilty, when he could skip bail and go on the run and into hiding with no jail time? While they were wasting their time with Mac, the real killer was out there somewhere. The evil individual had implicated Mac for the crime. It was someone who had coerced a witness into perjury, someone smarter than the average criminal and had a basic forensic knowledge, someone dangerous.

Mac sluggishly moved to the corner of his cell, it was very exposed and he had nowhere to change in private. He didn't want to wear the guilt-associated mark of orange in here. He was beinning to think that his least favourite colour was orange. He wasn't allowed to change in private in case he concealed a weapon somewhere. _Somewhere,_ there was nowhere for him to put a weapon! But apparently somebody had managed it previously and now he had to strip in the open. Mac broke the record of the speediest change in the history of the universe while he hoped that no one was looking.

He now _felt_ like a criminal. He pulled the orange over shirt on top of his underneath white t-shirt, he folded, and then handed the guard his suit. He then sank down on to the bench and put his head in his hands, he was hiding, he didn't want anybody to see him like this. He felt sick.

Mac would have checked his watch if they hadn't taken it away from him at booking, he hated not having a sense of the time. The clock that was positioned on the wall had stopped working and was stuck at 11:56 and was no longer ticking. In the early 20th century, when imprisoning people first became popular in England, criminals used to talk and communicate their methods of crime. So the silent treatment was brought in, where criminals were sectioned off without anybody to talk to. Eventually many of them went mad. It had been nearly 12 hours since Mac had been brought in and he felt like he was on the brink of madness.

"Taylor." Mac stood up and walked to the bars, so as that he was out of the shadows.

"Visitor."

_Great!_ Mac was cynical. He didn't want anyone to see him in orange, unless it was either someone with normal clothes for him to wear or someone granting his freedom.

"Christine." He said quietly and she walked through the buzzing doors and up to the cell in which he was being held.

Mac immediately saw the look of horror in her eyes at the sight of him. He felt his heart sink; he never wanted anyone to see him wearing this. He could sense that Christine was far from accepting of the unfortunate circumstances he was in. He didn't want to be judged. He didn't want to be judged by _her._

"Mac. What are you doing here? What are they charging you with?" She was close, but at the same time she kept her distance, like a child keeping their distance for a cadged animal at the zoo. Mac wasn't an animal.

Here came the hard part.

"Christine," Mac said a little above a whisper, it caught her attention and she looked up. He placed his hand around the bar again to see what would happen. After a few seconds of nothing, he continued.

"They are charging me with murder in the first degree." Mac was positive in what he said, but at the same time he was reluctant to tell her, afraid of what she would think. The orange clothing really did make a difference, he felt different.

Christine looked mortified. A slow droning sensation began to play in her heart. She knew it already, she had been told. She just wanted to hear it from Mac. Unfortunately it made everything all the more real. In her eyes he looked all the more guilty after saying the words.

"I have a psyche and physical exam in an hour or so, then I have a bail hearing in court to see _if_ I will be allowed bail."

"Did you do it?"

"Wh-what?" Mac stuttered, she was actually asking if he'd committed murder. He had obviously misjudged their relationship quite substantially. You would have thought that over the period of time that they had know each other, she should quiet happily assume his innocence before his guilt, much like the rest of America was supposed to.

"Did you do what they say you did?" Christine felt sick. She thought she knew Mac. She thought she could safely say he was a good guy. When her family had accepted Mac, she thought she would settle down with him. They had all misjudged him.

"No." Mac said shortly, not wanting to say something that he would later regret.

"I spoke to Jo, Don and Stephanie something."

"And?" Mac was now not in the mood. Something however did cross his mind. Jo, not once, had shown any doubt in him. She'd never asked, she'd assumed he was innocent from the start. She was so confident in his lack of homicidal tendencies that she had promised to get him out. Mac hoped that she could, he wanted his freedom and would never take it for granted again.

"Mac there is so much evidence against you."

"And you think I what? Got up one morning and decided to go and kill the only person that knew the whereabouts of a missing 9-year-old!" Mac snapped in a quiet tone. "It could have been planted."

Christine seemed to consider this for a moment. "Jo said you were passionate about the case."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It looks like you killed someone. That's what's wrong." She would not believe the lies that Mac was spinning to get himself out of trouble.

"Christine, you honestly don't think that I-"

"Mac, to tell you the truth, I don't know what to think." She cut in harshly. She could see that Mac was deeply hurt, but this wasn't working out. She wanted an out. She wanted a quiet life. A life that did not involve the media as she stepped out of her front door every morning. "Mac." She looked into his eyes that were glazed with discomfort; he knew what she wanted to say. "This has been fun and I'm glad we reconnected after all those years. But-"

"But you think I killed a guy so now you're dumping me?" He squinted at her and tilted his head in a disapproving manner.

"No, Mac I didn't say that."

"No but you were thinking it." Mac was reminding himself why he didn't like dating. He was always left behind. Claire, obviously not intentional but it still hurt him to this day that she'd gone. He loved her and somehow he managed to plough on. Peyton, had left him for her family in London, of which he understood, but again it had wounded him greatly. He confided in his music, which now wasn't an option. Now Christine, who thought he was guilty of murder, was now also slipping away as her faith in him left. It was true; she believed the lies cast about him.

"Mac I just think that if we spent some time apart."

"Because you don't think we're spending time apart while I'm in here?" Mac looked around the cell to emphasize his point that he was locked up and she was not.

"Mac." She interrupted. "You know my family, they're not too impressed that you're in here. Some think you did it, some don't. I don't know." She looked down as her voiced trailed off.

Mac nodded, he wasn't going to lie, this was hurting badly on the inside. There was absolutely no point in denying it, her brother had practically been family to him. If Christine and her family could be convinced of his guilt in a matter of hours, how long was it going to take for a jury of 12 strangers? He didn't show his emotions, he would not make a firework display for her to see. He screamed and raged on the inside, tears flooded in his heart. On the outside, he quietly retained a straight face and he hibernated into his military defense. The only window to his soul and true feelings was his sea blue eyes, showing the emotions he felt to the people that truly cared about him. All Christine saw was a poker face man with a lot to hide. In some respects she was right, but she didn't know the truth.

"I guess this is good bye then." Christine murmured as the silence droned on and the tense atmosphere became too much to bear.

"Bye Christine." He turned his back on the door before she left. "And just for the record." He looked up at the wall and with a shake of the head with deliverance he stated, "I didn't kill Gregory Williams."

He heard her footsteps faded away. He just wanted to be left in the dark. There was one positive thing to come out of that, he didn't have to constantly bring up the past anymore with her. He knew though he would be spending a considerable amount of time thinking about what he once had, what he could never get back. The truth was, he'd never felt love and passion as much than when he'd been with Claire. If she were still here, she'd believe him.

The question that was most prominent now, was why would someone want Mac to be convicted of murder? Sent to prison? Mac thought of the many convicts that he had put away. Perhaps he'd testified to evidence that had put this person behind bars, someone claiming to be innocent or a family member believing a loved one to be innocent. The individual or the people that had set this up had not once contacted him; Mac thought that this was strange. Maybe they were watching from the sidelines, maybe they though he deserved to be punished.

Mac didn't really believe in karma. He could never justify what happened on 9/11. All those innocent people had died on that tragic day. He could not think of anything Claire had done to deserve what she got. He didn't know what he had done to loose her. Another example of how life wasn't fair.

It wasn't long before the medical people came to assess him for the terms of his bail if the judge granted it. He passed the physical exam straight away. He was fighting fit and healthy. The psyche exam proved quite frustrating. Not only did he know how to draw triangles inside of squares, he also knew what colour the picture cards were and what type of mathematical equipment to use to draw a straight line.

"How is this helping?" Mac asked after about 10 minutes of this seeming pointless exercise.

The man said nothing and jotted a few things down on his pad.

Finally he spoke. "How do you feel about the death of Gregory Williams?"

"I wish he hadn't of been killed for two reasons." Mac stated positively.

"And why is that?" The doctor wrote some more down.

"The team investigating Mollie Granger's might have had a better change of finding her alive. Her family would be devastated if she's never found because some scumbag decided to kill the only person that knew where she is!"

"And the second?"

"I wouldn't be here. I'd be at work, solving crime."

He continued with his notes.

"You used the word 'scumbag', is that how you feel about yourself?" Mac could now see where this was heading.

"No. I think the person that killed Gregory Williams is."

"Do you know who that person is?"

"No."

"Do you know who you are?"

"3rd Grade Detective McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior, Head of the New York Crime Lab." Mac said his full title although it was a bit of a mouthful.

"Why did you kill Gregory Williams?"

Mac scowled. "I didn't." He wasn't sure how much more of this lunacy he was prepared to put up with but it was a psyche exam, all he knew was that he had to remain calm. He bit his tongue so as he didn't remark what was on his mind. He was pretty sure it was the doctor that was crazy, not him.

"You show no remorse, why is that? Don't you regret what you did?" The doctor continued. Mac knew this technique, and as soon as he recognised it, he relaxed a little. The doctor didn't necessarily believe that Mac was innocent or guilty until all the questions had been answered. It was designed to either make or break the case for the DA. Mac was sure though that with the evidence somebody had fabricated against him the DA would press charges and this was purely a show for the initial appearance in court for the bail hearing.

"I show no remorse, because I can't feel guilty for something I didn't do."

"Do you believe you didn't kill Gregory Williams?"

"I _know_ I didn't kill Gregory Williams."

"Are you going to seek a plea agreement with the DA?"

"No, I am innocent. And American's should believe innocent until proven guilty, it's not my job to prove my innocence, it's the states Job to prove my guilt. Since I didn't do anything they can't prove that I did and I should not be convicted for a crime I did not commit. It's called the burden of prove. Maybe you should look it up."

"Ok, Mr Taylor. See you in court." The doctor got up and left. Mac, strangely enough had been glad of the company, because now he was alone again.

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**Author Note:  
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**So I did manage one today... Hehe. I hope you guys like it. If at all possible I would like to know what you think. I know my writing isn't amazing and I could spend longer on it and make it perfect, but if I leave it too long before I update I loose interest.. I have the attention spam of a goldfish sometimes...  
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**Looking forward to hearing from you! (: Thank you for reading, reviewing & following so far...  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Five – Orange_

"Mac! Mac." Jo shouted running up to the bars of which he was being held. "Thank god you're still here!"

"To tell you the truth I'd rather be anywhere but here." Mac said, slightly confused, but light heartedly because he was glad to see her.

Jo shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I didn't want you to have to go to court in…" She looked over Mac for a moment, seeing him in the orange dress code was not easy. She wasn't judgmental; the colour he was in did not affect her as it had Christine. As she glanced over him and her eyes caught in his. She saw the pain in which he had to endure. The torture of the legal imprisonment for which he had done nothing wrong was a great deal for anyone to bear. "I didn't want you to have to go to court in a police custody holding uniform." She explained when she got the words in the right order in her head. "The guard took almost half an hour to make sure I hadn't smuggled you in anything and the bail hearing starts in an hour and" She handed Mac suit of his. "I went to you're apartment, I hope you don't mind."

"No, no. Thank you! I don't mind at all." Mac exclaimed in a hurry, Jo was so thoughtful sometimes. He hadn't even thought about his clothes until they had been taken off of him this morning and he hadn't even said about it to Christine, like he had planned to. Mac felt his heart fall a couple of notches as her name crawled across her mind; their relationship seemed so fake now. She hadn't bothered to stick around, she liked the idea of being with someone stable, and someone she could be proud of. Who would be proud if their boyfriend was in prison for murder? She saw trouble and ran. The sad thing was, Mac knew that he would have stuck by her if the roles were reversed, this time he was glad he was given an 'out'.

"So you have Don and Lindsay testifying to you're good character, you have the doctors that saw you earlier and Sheldon testifying to your well being. Unfortunately you'll have Stephanie there sharing the evidence along with some FBI personnel-"

"Jo. Jo. Stop."

There was a short silence. Somewhere down the hall metal chains chimed together and a guard shouted at someone.

"Mac?"

"Even if the judge thinks I would come back for the trial. How on earth would I pay the bail? You've seen my place, I'm not a millionaire."

"You're not, but Sid is."

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask him to pa-"-_y my bail._

"Mac, he offered, in fact he jumped at the chance. He said if it weren't for you trying his pillow in the first place and giving him feedback he wouldn't be a millionaire. Besides, he gets it back at the end after you show up at court for the trial." Mac thought that he sure could have used Sid's pillow last night, the bench was less that comfortable.

"And," Jo continued after a short silence. "If your positions were reversed, you'd do the same for him, for any of us."

Mac began to smile, for the first time in this god for saken cell; it felt like things were on the up. He didn't want to think about the accusations, Christine, or the colour orange.

Mac coughed slightly, trying to get Jo to take the hint that he did not want to change publically. Grinning, She spun around to face the door and the guard's office so he could change in peace. She wanted to turn around again, just to see. She'd seen him shirtless once before and he took her breath away. But she respected him too much for that and so with regret she stayed facing the guard's office until he spoke.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Jo." Mac said, not bothering to fold the uniform and dumped the cheap material on the bench. Jo turned around as he did his shirt buttons.

"Well I certainly would not like to be in court wearing that." She said nodding at the crumpled clothes.

"Me neither," Mac said. "I felt like a common crook." He still felt like a criminal, he was still on the wrong side of the bars. "These clothes," he tilted his head in the general direction of the orange uniform, "These walls" He looked around, "Are enough to drive any man crazy."

"You're not crazy."

Mac sure _felt_ crazy. What was he doing here? Why did this have to happen to him? Mac had always thought that, with his job occupation, his end of existence would be due to a bullet. He never thought that he might be spending the last productive years of his life withering in prison, despite the fact he was innocent. A surge of anger plummeted through his entire being, there were only a few people that knew this fact, he and the real killer, the person that planted the evidence and this so called witness. Mac's thoughtful deliberation turned back to Christine. He was in a sense heartbroken, not because she'd left him, but because she didn't believe him. She and her family would rather belief some strangers over the person she supposedly loved. A glimmer of a smile played on his lips, he not once, had told her those three words. I love you. He had loved her, but in the wrong kind of way. Their families were too close; he loved her like a sister, not a partner. He felt slightly stupid for only realizing it now, but on that thought, he knew it was true.

Jo walked up to the bars and looked at Mac, trying to figure what he was thinking. What was going on in that amazing brain of his?

"Can I ask you something?" Mac asked eventually at her inquisitive look.

"Of course," Jo tilted her head a little. She knew little about what happened with Christine, only that they'd had a fight, but she assumed that whatever followed involved that.

"Why didn't you ask me if I was innocent or guilty?"

Jo looked almost as mortified as Mac when Christine had asked him of his guilt. "Mac, I know you." _I love you. _"I know you couldn't have done anything like what they are suggesting. Besides, when I got here you told me."

"I did?" Mac rubbed his forehead, trying to remember exactly what was said, but he could place the words "I'm Innocent" in their conversation.

Jo squared up to Mac and looked him into his eyes. "You told me with you're eyes. Has anybody ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?" She whispered and jolted back slightly in surprise in what she had said. "You have honest eyes."

Mac moved forward a step so that he was as close to her as it was possible for him to be, thinking nothing more of her comment. When they were at work she was constantly telling him was sexy, or handsome. He never believed a word of it. Something about this seemed different, but Mac's mind was too preoccupied to notice. "I have been told that I communicate with my eyes before." Mac confided in Jo with a soft tone and a nod, "Sometimes I think it's the only way I know how."

"I'm so glad I understand you."

"Oh, you do? Do you?" Mac said, pretending not to be convinced, trying to make light of being in a crappy cell. However in reality he knew that Jo was one of the few that did understand him.

"Yeah, I do." Jo said strongly with a remarkable smile.

"Ok, what am I thinking now?" He did his best shot at a poker face but his eyes were Jo's gateway to his true feelings and to his pure soul. Their eyes locked and she felt privileged to be let into his world as his inner defensive boundaries came down.

"You're hurt." She said strongly. "You're innocent and someone you care about doesn't believe you. That's why you asked me why I didn't doubt you." She trailed of towards the end, not sure what to say. She knew she was right, but did she want Mac to know she could decipher all these things on his mind?

"…And you could probably do with a big juicy hamburger."

Mac scoffed, remembering that evening. "And a light beer." He added with a smile, but to be honest with himself, he could do with something a lot stronger that a light beer. He hadn't realised how Jo would actually be. On top of being dead right about Christine, she was also correct when she predicted he was hungry, as he'd decided to pass on the slop that the holding facilities liked to pretend was food.

"Ok. Maybe you do know me." Mac with more precision and seriousness than the joking atmosphere covered, he nodded as if learning a life lesson. He wasn't sure whether he was happy admitting it yet, but the thought was solidly planted in his mind. Jo knew him, she knew how to understand him, she knew him the way Claire once had. He felt mixed feelings towards this idea, his emotions felt like a firework display, ready to explode unpredictably and uncontrollably at any second. He now could safely bet that had been why he'd flipped out and punched the captain. He'd simply lost control and his bottled up emotions came crashing down. This rarely happened, even with Claire.

"It's different." Mac said, "Being on these side of the bars, hearing the words 'I'm innocent' over and over again in my head." He exhaled deeply and threw his hands to his face where he could rub his tired eyes.

"hmmm?" Jo asked, genuinely interested in what he was saying, but could not find words to express her thoughts and was thinking about a different area of Mac's life altogether.

"We hear criminals claim to be innocent everyday. Some of them never confess. What if we got it wrong? An innocent man goes down for a crime he did not commit."

"There's a lot of distance from our lab to the trial for someone still pleading 'Not Guilty' All 12 members of the jury have to agree guilt in order for there not to be a miss trial. You know that." She said, trying to hit his arm through the rails.

"I guess."

"You guess? Is that the best you can do?"

"Jo." He held her hand that was still partially through the bars. Jo felt her heart skip a beat and she looked up into his eyes.

"We have to consider the possibility that I might go down for this."

"No" Jo whispered, solemnly shaking her head. "I won't let them, I promise I'll get you out."

Mac looked up, slightly above her head as if he were actually close to tears. But Mac never cried. He wasn't about to, was he?

"Just supposing I am convicted."

"I am gonna get help and get you out. Even if it takes me _years_, I'll get you out. I won't ever give up."

Mac smiled at her enthusiasm, he couldn't help but wonder if she would feel the same way a month or so. It wouldn't be an easy process going through court appeals. Jo wouldn't be aloud to look at the evidence herself and she wouldn't be able to do it alone. They would need to find a specialist lawyer who accepted to take on the case. Jo would probably end up in charge of the lab because Sinclair wouldn't be bothered to search for someone new and then that burden would also be lumbered in Jo's lap. She would need to take time off of work; she'd then have no source of income. No way of housing or feeding herself and Ellie. Mac couldn't help but feel that she didn't know what she was letting herself in for.

Jo could almost see the cogs turning in Mac's brain as he stood there thinking. She didn't want to push him into telling her, she'd already pushed further than she should have over the last couple of days. Jo smiled and thought it was adorable of Mac to bite the bottom of his lip when he was in deep thought.

Mac knew that he was fearing the worst, he might not get convicted. He might be aloud to walk free. With the evidence somebody had carefully fabricated, there didn't seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. It was just blackness.

Mac shook himself from his trance and went to look at his wrist, oddly enough his watch had not appeared. "I keep forgetting." He pointed at his wrist, "No watch." He silently cursed the system for the reasoning behind his lack in the sense of time.

Jo looked at her wrist, "I'll bet they're gonna have you taken to the court in a few minutes. She looked down; bring herself to tell Mac something that wasn't going to be easy to hear. "Mac, there is something that you should know." She shifted on her feet and rested her hand on a bar.

Mac signed quietly, waiting for her to look up.

"Sinclair has allowed a large media coverage of your case. I spoke to Don, he said that he's done this before. It's a massive media hype."

"He has. I knew this day would come. I knew he'd be back." Mac hadn't thought of that, if Jo did sincerely plan on sticking by him throughout this if he went to prison, the media wouldn't just attack him but her and Ellie as well. Mac rubbed the ache that had appeared in the back of his neck and wondered what Ellie thought about all this. For some reason, he wanted to be accepted by the teenager. He feared that if she didn't like him, or was convinced of his guilt, Jo would drift away. He didn't want to loose her.

"Do you think he's trying to bury you?" Jo asked, hoping that this did not involve powerful people in politics. Mac wasn't the only one who hated politics. They were the real people that thought they were above the law.

"I don't know."

"You don't think _he_ planted all that evidence?" Jo's voice was thready; she'd not planned to say it out loud. But now that the words were out they lingered in their minds, it made the awful situation all the more real and they plunged further into darkness.

"I hope not." Mac thought about it, Sinclair did have motive. Now he was commissioner and running for mayor, Mac was the only one left employed under Mayor Giuliani's leadership. Unfortunately Mac had had this battle before; he'd played the unpredictable game of politics once. Now he did not have a trump card, he was in a cell. Gerrard was in prison and so the media wouldn't care if his prints were on the belt or not. Sinclair may have won this battle but the war was far from over. Mac would not go down, without one hell of a fight, for something he did not do.

Mac's mind took him back to a conversation he'd had with Danny after the circus of the Clay Dobson case was over. Danny said that Don had predicted they knew that Mac was innocent. They were doing this for the public's attention and free media publicity. Perhaps Sinclair really did believe that he had chucked Dobson off of the roof of that building, perhaps Sinclair really did have it in for him.

Or maybe it wasn't Sinclair at all.

* * *

**Author Note:**

**I am sorry this ended up being an even shorter chapter than the one previously. It just seemed to come to a natural end & I couldn't think what else to put in but I know what is coming next. I shall try and make up for it in the next chapter if at all possible (:  
**

**Hope you like! Thank you for reading, I'd love to hear what you think (:  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Six – Initial Appearance_

The Media circus had gathered outside the court building where Mac's initial Appearance was to take place. He had been transported across town in a police holding van, restrained by handcuffs. As he was lead out of the vehicle it took a colossal amount of effort to swallow his pride. Mac precluded his eyes to the steps when he noticed a dauntingly startled looking Reed amongst the crowd, they hadn't spoken to each other in months and he felt a surge of guilt pound over him.

Reed was now a full time journalist and had been assigned this article by the paper he was working for, although he had tried to refuse, twice. Reed had spoken to Don, who he remembered from a few years ago, as a concerned friend, as a concerned son. He didn't want to believe the situation, he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to stop tear rolling down his cheek, he would not believe that Mac had it in him to kill somebody in cold blood. While he had parents, he still struggled with to come to terms with the fact that he could never meet his real mom. He needed Mac to feel close to his roots. Reed just stood there, his eyes locked with Mac's as he was being bombarded with other news correspondents and TV cameramen. Their gaze was broken as career hungry news reporters folded in closer to the police. They both felt helpless.

Reed, like Jo, knew Mac was innocent without being told a word.

Being a detective, Mac was trained to search for anomalies; there was only one person that stood out in the crowd of truth spinning savages aside from Reed. A man wearing with a thick brown hoodie was standing alone in the shadows of the state court building, He didn't appear to be paying much attention but seemed mildly interested and every once in a while glanced over in the direction of Mac and his police escorts. Mac couldn't see his face because his hood shielded him, he could make out that this figure had a square jaw line, was about 6ft tall, and was relatively well built. He had a strange familiarity about him that Mac couldn't place.

Mac shook his head as if to remove the idea, what was he doing that was so suspicious? Nothing. Everyone else was pushing and shoving and yet this guy was watching form a distance. '_So what? Not everybody is that interested in you Mac Taylor!_' he told himself attempting to keep it together as he walked up the many steps he'd climbed before. Usually he wasn't in handcuffs, he hated being retrained, even if he could get free. He could feel his sanity slipping away. Who was trying to do this to him? For all he knew, the man in the hoodie was waiting for a ride and was not a malicious criminal wanting to deprive him of his freedom.

Mac did his best to conceal his face, but being handcuffed only offered so much protection. Sinclair wanted this; it made him look like he was doing his job well. It made him look like a man that was taking action. The stand he had taken was going to either make or break his candidacy for the elections.

Mac had immediately been lead to the courtroom once inside the building. The DA was already present and so were many interested spectators, hoping for either a good story or some entertainment. An officer tugged on Mac's arm until they reached the right hand side of the room, the defendant's side was not a view he was used to. He felt very conscious of the people around him, he could not thank Jo enough for bringing him clothes, he did not want the 'guilty' look here and have the connotations of the orange uniform brought to anybody's attention. He did not want to stand out and relived that he wasn't a bright orange target. The Officer placed a hand on his shoulder and vigorously pushed him down onto the chair next to Richard Thomson, who was still his defense attorney at this stage. Jo was not testifying, and so took a seat directly behind Mac, along with the rest of the team that were only there to support a good friend and work colleague. None of them were looking forward to the cross examinations, lawyers had a habit of twisting what was said to a completely different meaning. Mac twisted in his seat, despite his instructions to face forward at all times, Jo smiled at him telling him that she and the rest of the team had his back no matter what.

Mac had not seen Sheldon, Don, Lindsay or any of the team whilst in custody and now they were supposed to testify for him. He hadn't even had the chance to explain. Not that he could explain anything; he had no idea how his gun was the murder weapon or how his shirt had the victim's blood on it. That didn't seem to be a very promising prospect. Jo had reassured him that they didn't think that he played any part in the murder. These were the only people in the whole of New York City to believe his innocence over his guilt. The media had been like untamed lions at feeding time. Wild. It had already hit the new channels and a few hours later Mac felt like a piece of bloody meat. This situation was what people wanted to hear about and it sold the papers in the name of entertainment.

"The court is in session." The judge boomed across the courtroom. He looked bored more than anything; he was a grumpy old man who had better places to be.

"Defendant, please rise." Mac almost forgot to stand, he wasn't used to being addressed as the 'Defendant,' Usually he was known as "Expert witness, Detective Mac Taylor," in court.

"Please State your full name." The court clerk was short and had a squeaky voice.

"McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior." Mac sated loudly and clearly which made him look and sound more confidence than he felt.

"We are here today to determine in this initial appearance whether the defendant should be granted bail. Is that correct?" The judge asked because he couldn't be bothered to read the paper below him.

"Yes, your honor." Richard Thomson stated, he and Mac then sat back down and waited for the prosecution to throw daggers into Mac's chances of freedom.

"Your honor, I believe that the request for bail is absolutely absurd!" The Female District attorney wasted no time and got straight to the point. Waving her arms about so much she looked as if she might take off. "It is my belief that Mr. Taylor poses a significant flight risk with the charges held against him. He has next to no family in New York, and he has walked out of court before, who is to say that he would return?" She dramatically paused to allow the rhetorical question to sink in and circle around the judge's mind. "The evidence is strong and though not fully processed, I have no doubt that the defendant sat before you today, will be found guilty of Murder in the first degree. Secondly we have a witness who claims to have seen the defendant committing the offence at the time of the murder, we have phone records to corroborate her timeline and series of events. We have also seen that McKenna Taylor can be extremely violent as he assaulted Captain Kevin Roy, who is also here today, whilst resisting arrest."

Throughout her opening statement Richard Thomas was scribbling down things, so that he was prepared to offer Mac the best chance of being granted bail. Mac mentally banged his head against a brick wall. He could already feel the case slipping away from his grasp with every breath he took.

Richard stood up to give his opening statement; he didn't as look as confident as the DA had which unsettled Mac and in his discomfort he shifted a little.

"Your honor," He stated with a smiled. "I would like to bring it to your attention that my client is the head of the NYPD crime lab, he didn't get there by accident, prior to being in the police force he was in the Marines, serving our country. Working hard, he made his way through the ranks of the police force before being boss. I can assure you that many people that he himself, has helped put behinds bars, may have motive to frame him and that could be a reason to why the evidence seems to lead so blatantly and directly to him. Furthermore, being an expert in forensic science surly he could have thought of a better way to kill someone than with his own, registered gun."

To Mac's relief, the judge nodded once to what was being said, making him feel better, although he still couldn't comprehend the idea of killing someone in cold blood.

"I hardly think that my client, Detective Mac Taylor, would be a flight risk." Mac couldn't help by smile; he hadn't been addressed as 'detective' for what seemed like forever. "He is a responsible, professional man who understands the court procedure; he has lived in the city for 15 years. Where he now calls home, where he holds many fond memories of his late wife, Claire, who tragically passed away on 9/11. Mac Taylor is a decent man and will return to court on the date of the trial with the assurance of paying bail."

A mixture of emotions began to rise and threatened to surface, he knew that they could easily be misinterpreted and so tried harder than ever to bottle them down. He'd spent over 10 years coping with the loss of his wife; he wasn't going to have a break down now.

Mac wasn't even aware that Richard knew these things about him. While he was stating obvious about things like having memories, he wasn't aware that Richard even knew about his wife. Apparently Richard had done some homework and briefed himself with Mac's life in the hours between the interrogation and the hearing today.

"My client, Mac, is only human. Part of the human condition comes feelings and emotions some of which we can and can not control. We all make mistakes, I've made mistakes, in fact I am almost certain that everyone present in this courtroom today has made a mistake or at least knows of someone that has. As humans we react to certain things and in the stressful situation of being arrested, Mac revealed a moment of weakness and lashed out on Captain Kevin Roy. Detective Taylor has a reputation that proceeds him and it isn't fair to condone him as a violent man based on a moment of weakness. Thank-you you're honor." Richard sat back down and wiped his brow feeling the sweat that had accumulated there. This was the highest profile case he had ever fought.

In a flash the DA was standing again. "Your honor, I would like to call my first witness to the stand," He nodded. "Stephanie Brooks, from Internal Affairs, is going to summaries the evidence pending against the defendant."

The court clerk stood up and took a bible to Stephanie, not being a religious person she shook her head and placed her hand on her heart while she was taking her oath.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I Will." She said indefinitely with a nod.

"Who was the evidence processed by?" The DA asked directly.

"The Evidence was processed at first by the defendant and his team at the NYPD crime lab. Shortly after the evidence was collected, a team formed by a group of New Jersey's forensic investigators, the FBI and I took over and processed the evidence."

"Why was there any need for a new team to be brought to the case?"

"Evidence that Detective Daniel Messer found on the body lead to the defendant. Sinclair started an Internal investigation on grounds of cross contamination through violating procedure."

"What can you tell us about the evidence that has been processed?"

"Of the evidence we have processed, we have found that: The Defendant, McKenna Taylor Junior, has no alibi for the time of the murder, and claims to have been jogging and at home alone, during the hours of Gregory William's death. A police issue firearm registered to McKenna Taylor, that only the defendant has access to, was the gun that shot and killed the deceased. McKenna Taylor's DNA was found on the victim and a piece of his clothing was found in a trashcan in his apartment with the victim's blood all over it. He also resides only a few blocks from where the body was found and there is a reliable witness prepared to testify," Stephanie squinted trying to remember the name. "Breanna Martin."

"Breanna Martin called 911 after the attack, she saw the defendant at the crime scene when he claims to be elsewhere. Makes me curious, what else could he lying about?"

"Objection! Nothing has been put forward to suggest that my client is lying." Richard came flying out of his seat

"Withdrawn." The DA retracted what she said immediately this was what she had expected to happen but she didn't care. The damage had been done. The judge was now wondering whether the defendant was lying or not and placed a seed of doubt in his mind. That was all she needed to get the result she wanted.

The judge looked down at her, "Miss Green, please refrain from using cheap shots like that. Let's have a nice clean hearing."

"Yes your honor," She tried to look apologetic but Mac could see that she wasn't in the slightest bit sorry. "No further questions, your honor."

"Stephanie Brooks, Right?"

"Yes."

"You work from Internal Affairs within the New York Police Department, Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"So tell me, who alerted you to the fact that my client had evidence leading to him?"

She shifted on the spot, feeling uncomfortable. "Detective Mac Taylor called commissioner Sinclair to remove himself from the Case."

Richard nodded. "Is it a possibility that my client was framed?"

"Yes, but-"

"Have you exhausted every possible lead?"

"No bu-"

"So it wouldn't be fair to incarcerate a man in a holding cell, who is innocent until proven otherwise, while you work out whether he deserves to be there or not. No further questions your honor."

The Medical examiner's testified to the fact that Mac was fit and health and of sane mind. Sheldon explained to the judge about Mac's sleeping condition as his doctor.

Flack was called to the witness stand but was almost completely dismissed because he had known Mac too long and the general feeling was that he would do or say anything to get him out of trouble.

Lindsay had a better shot because she was given the chance to explain why she and Danny had chosen Mac to be the godfather of their daughter Lucy. But she was quickly ripped down as the DA accused her of trying to save her boss so as he didn't fire her and her husband.

The Initial appearance seemed to have turned into a mini trial but instead of a jury, the judge had the power to grant his freedom for a few days and on what terms.

The witness was the final person to take the stand; she had long, curly red hair and olive skin. Mac felt sure that if he had seen her before then he would have recognised her. She swore her oath over the bible and then took a seat.

The DA stepped away from the podium and used her hand to express what she was saying further.

"Ms Martin, would you describe where you live?"

"I live at 70 Franklin Street on the 3rd floor.

"Breanna, according to you what happened during the events of the night before last?"

"I was in my apartment, preparing food for my two cats, Smokey and Sootie. Sootie was there but I was missing Smokey. Smokey is getting old now and I was afraid something might have happened to her so I went to look for her."

Breanna took a deep breath. "When I got outside I looked all along my road and down a couple of ally's I have found her in before."

"What, or rather, _who _did you see?" Miss Green coached.

Breanna looked up and then directly at Mac. Mac was half expecting her to come out with some apologies and how he wasn't the person she saw. That was what he was hoping anyway. But a witness was the weakest part of any case, if what was said could not be accounted for by actual evidence the DA had very little to go on and so far they had not proved that Mac was there at the time of the shooting.

"I saw a man, with a gun in a blue shirt." She paused "I heard the shot," Breanna covered her ears as if traumatized by the sound repeating in her head. "The man with the gun ran over towards Church Street."

"Is that man in the room with us today in the courtroom?"

She looked up and nodded both at Mac and the Judge. Mac began to feel numb.

"Yeah, It's him." Breanna pointed directly at Mac.

* * *

**Author Note: **

**So I did most of this chapter a while ago so I was able to get it up relatively quickly. I don't know if it is very accurate, I did do some research and I re-watched some CSI:NY episodes to get a feel for the courtroom. It's quite annoying because although I have been to court before and listened to bail hearings and what-not it's all very different in the UK. (I did my work experience with a solicitor's firm.) Well I hope it is believable :$ I did have some problems. I decided because in the initial appearance there is some cross examination between witnesses (Like in the John Curtis case with the preliminary hearing) the opposition is aloud to shout objection. I ended up asking my dad and he seemed to think that I'm right but I'm not sure (:  
**

**Anyway, slightly longer chapter (Only just) & I hope you all like.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces loosing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Seven – One in a Million_

Mac didn't even remember standing up, yelling his objections at her accusation. The guard lunged forward but Richard Thomson intercepted with his arm and gave him a look that silently said 'I'll deal with it.' Mac's attorney dragged him back down to his seat.

"Defense Council, do you mind keeping your client quiet?" The judged growled, looking over the top of his glasses, down at their table.

"Sorry your Honor." He said and then turned to scowl at Mac.

Mac simply could not believe it; she was under oath and committing perjury. Lying out of her way to drop Mac in it. She looked so honest and she was believable. Mac wondered if it were possible that she was confused and had seen him at the crime scene when he was called into work at 4 in the morning. Maybe Mac didn't believe her because he knew it was a lie, but there was a glint of either revenge or pure hate in her eyes. Mac knew that if he gave his opinions a voice he would more than likely be categorized as crazy and sectioned. He put himself in the judge's shoes. What would he do?

"Then what happened?" Miss Green was back on the direct questions.

"I don't think he saw me. Once I was sure he was gone I went to investigate. Greg-Gregory Williams was just lying there bloody and beaten. I-eh-I called 911." She stammered, on the brink of tears.

"Breanna is a model American citizen." The DA stated strongly "Many people who witness things as horrific as what the defendant did, don't come forward. Some don't even call 911. That will be all your Honor." Miss Green stated and walked back to her desk.

Richard stood up, pulling his hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ms Martin, why were you feeding your cats at 3 in the morning?"

"I-erh?" She looked a little startled but quickly maintained her image, "I woke up early and Smokey looked hungry," she said, looking around nervously.

"I see. It seems a bit of peculiar that you would be feeding your cats. Never mind looking for them."

"Objection!" This time it was Miss Green's turn to catapult out of her seat. "What my client does in regarding her sleeping patterns and the time of the day or night she feeds her pets is entirely up to her,"

"Sustained." The judge boomed. It was payback for her earlier cheap shot. He was a traditional judge, a month or so away from retirement, he just wanted justice to be served and did not care for her stupid play ground tactics.

Once silence had settled over the courtroom Richard began again. "Your Honor, not all the evidence has been processed, and until that evidence has been processed we cannot be sure of the reliability of the witness. Her testiony is without context." He briefly looked at the judge and then back at Breanna. "How can you be sure that it was my client that you saw? It was dark. You were about 30 feet away. How can you possibly be sure? Is it possible that you don't know what you saw? Ms Martin."

"I know what I saw."

Richard nodded, making a mental note to go to the exact location in the dark to see what he could see.

"To use your words, why did you decide to go and 'investigate'? You look pretty traumatized by what you witnessed." The young woman nodded shyly and looked at Mac. "Why would a fragile young woman in her 20's want to investigate a shooting?"

"I don't know, I just did."

"You. Just. Did." He paused to emphasise the unlikelihood of her story, "No further questions Your Honor."

Both the DA and Richard stood up to give their closing statements and then the judge would decide whether there was probable cause to hold Mac in custody until the trial date. If not he would then also have to decide what conditions he would be aloud out on.

The prosecution went first. "Your Honor, all of the evidence we have processed leads to the defendant. He has a great motive to flee the city to avoid the inevitable conviction that he so rightly deserves. There is absolutely nothing to suggest he has any intention of returning to court, especially since his last preliminary hearing, of which he walked out of. Everything that Breanna Martin has said has been backed up by all of the evidence so far I have no doubt that the rest of the evidence will also corroborate her story. It if my belief that the defendant poses a significant risk to the public and ask you that the request for bail is denied."

The judge nodded once and then looked at Richard as an invitation for him to give his closing statement.

"The witness's story is unusual at best and until it can be investigated further I suggest that my client, Mac Taylor, is released on bail. There are still other outcomes that the evidence supports and until we look at all aspects of that evidence, we really have no idea what really happened that night. Detective Mac Taylor is of sound Physical and mental condition, He has no family ties to criminals; he has a clean criminal record, no history relating to drug and alcohol abuse. Mac has a good track record concerning appearance at court proceedings and he has been in New York City for a long time, he's lived here for 15 years and he sees his work colleagues as his family. I highly doubt he would flee because of how sentimental the city has become to him and because of his occupation; he has a great deal of respect for the justice system.

This is not a trial, and I believe that there is more than enough probable cause for Mac Taylor to be granted bail.

The conditions I propose are as follows:

Passport confiscated, Refrain from the possession of a firearm. Refrain from contacting the victim or the witnesses testifying against him. Have a curfew of 8 until 6 and to pay a bond agreement with the court of $500 000."

The judge took a few minutes to deliberate before deciding exactly what to do with Mac. There were also some other things he had to consider that had not been mentioned during the hearing. Where Mac was being held was disrupting the precinct. And while Mac could still be held there, there would be no assurance of his safety.

"Defendant please rise."

The general chatter of people in the courtroom died down and silence fell once again. Mac dared to glance behind him; he only planned on taking a quick glimpse, just to calculate roughly how many people were there to judge him. The familiar stranger from earlier was lingering in the background, by the door. He was turned in such a way that Mac still was able to see his face but his hood was down. Mac could see that he was almost bald with short hair.

"May I remind you, Miss Green, that this is not a trial." Mac was physically shoved by the guard to make him face forwards, "It is not my job to decide the defendant's guilt." The judge started. "However I am of the opinion that any man with the accusation of murder hanging over his shoulders has reason to flee."

He paused, and directly addressed Miss Green. "If I give you 24 hours, would the team be able to have all the evidence processed and have given a copy of the reports to the defendant's counsel?"

"I need more time!" She squealed. Mac thought of the irony in the situation he was faced with. If he were on the other side of the courtroom, he'd have the evidence processed in _12_ hours and he would hand the necessary paper work to the defense in plenty of time. But he knew there was evidence in there that exonerated him from these absurd charges, and he knew he wasn't going to be allowed to find it. If he went on a wild goose chase for the speck of dust that proved his innocence, it would be seen as tampering with evidence and there for it would not be submissible in court. Mac wanted to throw his head on the desk, but just about surpressed the urge.

"Although the evidence pending against McKenna Taylor is substantial, it is my belief that because of the defendant's work in the New York Police Force and the length of time he has had residence in the city he is less likely to abscond. These are serious charges and being granted bail on these accusations is not common, though not unheard of. I have reviewed the opposing arguments and taken everything put forward to me today in to account. I have also looked over the situation in which the defendant was being held and I think that it is in the best interest of the state and the defendant to be let out on these conditions:"

In the moment of silence there was a tremendous uproar on the DA's side of the courtroom and a wave of sighs and relief echoed behind Mac. Mac heard Sid hiss a "Yes!" and felt Jo lean over and put her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed a little and her touch sent a wave of comfort through his veins.

"I agree that his passport shall be confiscated. The defendant shall take a compulsory leave of absence from his position at the crime lab and Refrain from the possession of a firearm. He shall not be allowed to contact the victim or the witnesses testifying against. He shall have a curfew of 8pm-7am monitored by an electronic ankle tag and to pay a bond agreement with the court of $1000 000."

Mac let a gasp slip through his lips. _$1000 000. _As much as he wanted to get out of the hellhole, he didn't want to put his friends, his family in that position. He wiped across his eyes with the back of his handcuffed hands. _An electronic ankle tag?_ Well that was an accessory he could live without. Mac was also unsettled by the fact he wouldn't be allowed a firearm, but he figured that if the person just wanted him dead, then they would have organized that by now. Whoever they were, they wanted Mac looking over his shoulder, they wanted him scared.

Mac, as a rule wasn't scared of death. Everybody lives and eventually everybody dies, it was just the cruel cycle of the universe. Since the shooting, just over 6 months ago, he'd learnt not to take life for granted, not to just assume there would be a tomorrow. If he kept putting things off until tomorrow, there would just be a long line of missed opportunities that he would have to face at the end. He had hoped that god, the universe, fate, or whoever, had left this part out of his life. He did not want to be the defendant in a murder charge.

"The court is adjourned until the trial, 2 days from now. Trial date July 14th 20-12"

Mac signed his release papers once he was taken into an office space and he was released from his restraints, Sid following closely behind. Mac glanced around and looked sheepishly at him, he wasn't used to being total reliant on someone.

"Sid I can't ask you to do this for me." Mac said

"You didn't ask. I offered." Sid reminded him with a grin, trying to shake the atmosphere of dread that lingered.

"Right." Mac said, still feeling helpless.

Sid wired the sum across to the court. He was quite content for a man who was giving up $1 million, but on the other hand he did have $26 million more.

"I honestly don't know how to thank you." Mac said, still bewildered.

The handcuffs were about to be presented to Mac again but Jo had become inpatient and gone looking for Mac.

"Do you really need those?" Jo asked the officer, startling the whole room

"It's protocol ma'am."

"Well let me take it from here then." she flashed her detective's badge on her belt and took the handcuffs from him.

"I'll take him to the precinct to get his tag fitted."

The officer looked uneasy about the situation, but Jo was his superior. If she took Mac, he would be her responsibility, not his. He nodded and walked off.

The court employed official, who had helped organized the money transfer with Sid, had to sign paperwork to witness the ankle tag being installed. The four of them went in Jo's Avalanche to the precinct. Mac rubbed his hands over his wrists, feeling that the weight physically and mentally had been lifted. He wanted nothing more to go home, sleep in his own bed. Be amongst his things. He would be spending at least 22 hours there in the next 48 hours at home. He had no idea what he would do with himself, he had practically been suspended from the lab, and he couldn't go anywhere.

The ankle tag was fitted onto Mac at the precinct. Mac felt nothing but pure humiliation as it was locked on. Mac had lost his pride; he was a shadow of his former self. He collected his possessions from booking and said his goodbyes to Sid and the rest of the team before he; Jo and the court official went to install the second part of his electronical ankle tag to his landline.

Once inside, Mac went his closet and retrieved his passport. He also retrieved his spare pistol and surrendered them to the court official. He didn't want to screw anything up and breach his bail conditions.

Mac and Jo were finally alone by 2pm of that day. Jo had offered to keep Mac company during some of the hours he was incarcerated in his own home, which started in a few hours. Mac was not allowed back to the lab, he was not allowed to work and he was not allowed anywhere near the evidence. Jo had told Danny that she planned to take the rest of the day off and he thought that he and the rest of the team could cope.

"What shall we do?" Mac asked as he walked into the kitchen

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well I don't want to be cooped up in here any longer than I actually have to be." Mac nodded as he flicked the switch on the kettle. "Coffee?"

"Please." Jo smiled and leant back on the work surface. "I'm glad you are okay." Jo said quietly, just loud enough for Mac to hear.

He handed her a mug, "This nightmare isn't over yet." He said leaning back next to her.

"So what shall we do for the next few hours?" Jo asked.

"I think I'd just like to get out. Breathe some fresh air, see the beauty of the world before…" Mac trailed off.

"Mac you are not going to prison."

"You can't know that Jo. The truth is, I _could_ be."

"Well you won't be there for very long."

"You can't know that either. I could be there for the rest of my life. You know, criminals don't take too kindly to cops. The criminal population in prisons is pretty high these days." Mac instantly regretted his sarcasm once the words had passed his lips. Jo was shocked by his sudden out burst, but she knew he didn't mean it. "I'm sorry, Jo. I didn't me-"

"I know." She put her cup down, and turned so as she was directly opposite Mac. "If it comes to the worst, then we will deal with it" She put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. "Why don't you believe me when I say I'll get you out? Because I will."

"I know that is what you believe. I know that is what you intend to do."

She looked at him, almost hurt. She wasn't sure how to convince him that she _would_ get him out if need be. No matter what.

"Jo, all I am saying is that it won't be easy. The media won't just be interested in me if they think you are trying to release a criminal. Working to get me exonerated will be like a full time Job; you'll have to take some leave from the lab. You won't have any financial income; you won't be able to support Ellie. This could go on for _years_. I can't expect you to give up your life because mine has been thrown away."

'_I don't have a life without you,' _was Jo's immediate thought.

Jo seemed to consider this; she hadn't taken everything into account.

"Well I'm sure that if I talk to Reed, he can help with the media circles. As for me, I'm sure I can cope."

"How?"

"Mac, I don't know! I will manage."

"Jo, I have a lot of faith in you, I do. It's just nobody can do the impossible, and I don't want to see you get hurt trying."

"But you are innocent!"

"Not everybody is going to see it that way."

"You're acting as if it is okay to go to prison!"

"No, of course it isn't. I will fight for my right to freedom, don't you worry about that. I just don't want to bring you down."

"Mac, you are my closest friend. I am not going to walk away from you. I am not going to leave you to rot in a prison cell and I am certainly not going to stand by and do nothing!"

"Lets go for a walk." Mac concluded.

Jo just smiled, she knew that Mac had no way of getting her to sit on the sidelines. She was there for him whether he liked it or not.

Mac knew he was lucky to have her, she was one in a million.

* * *

**Author Note:  
**

**I can hardly believe it, it has now been a week since I first published this! 1 chapter everyday! (I am far too pleased with myself)  
**

**Okay, so I'm not too sure when the next chapter will be up, hopefully it won't be too long... I have actually written Chapter 8, but I like to keep a chapter on in advance so if I need to I can make changes while more ideas come to mind. It's the one after that I have been having trouble with, but I am working on it.  
**

**I have looked over the spellings carefully and have come to the conclusion that everything is British, English, friendly. Hope its an improvement (:  
**

**Please R&R I love hearing your thoughts and opinions.**

* * *

**Author Note #2  
**

**Ok, so perhaps I still had some spelling mistakes. Fixed now, as far as I can see. I was wondering if my guest reviewer/s wouldn't mind signing in. I obviously respect you're privacy and your wish to remain anonymous, it's just incredibly difficult to have a conversation with you. You probably won't even be on this page again to see this message.  
**

**As for the date thing, I see that I have in fact got it wrong, but originally it was the date then month then year back here in England. I appreciate the fact that I am writing an American story but you have to realise that I am therefore consciously doing something wrong in my own language.  
**

**Gee, Its all so complicated. Maybe a future idea would be to send Mac & the team to England so I can write without thinking twice about the UK/US differences.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces losing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Eight – Something Beautiful_

They walked side by side through central park, hands almost touching as their arms swung loosely at their sides. For a late afternoon in September it was quite cold, Jo hadn't brought a coat and so, before they started to turn back she'd already stolen Mac's. He wasn't too bothered he liked the fresh air. He did not care for the stingy holding cell that he had been in and so wasn't complaining, in comparison the situation was far better, at least now he was on the same side of the bars as Jo. He didn't want her to be cold and so happily surrendered his jacket, which was on the large side for her.

Jo liked being in Mac's jacket, it smelt of him. Every time she took a breath she was almost knocked off her feet with the smell of his inviting aftershave and manly scent. The aroma was almost irresistible. They had chatted lightly the whole way here, but now they were comfortable in each other's silence. It wasn't in the slight sense awkward; the atmosphere between the two was soothing.

Mac wanted to take a minute to admire the beauty that everyone took for granted on a daily basis. Being locked up and out of sunlight made Mac appreciate the outside more than actually he realized. His thoughts were of the evening of the shooting when he was here, not that anybody concerning the case was willing to believe him. It did look different now, apposed to when he'd been here in the dark, and his pace had dramatically changed, as he had been jogging. He wasn't even aloud to run in the dark any more.

The autumn leaves left a golden-red path on the ground and the bronzes sparkled in the light. It was truly quite beautiful. The background noise consisted of horns and traffic, of children laughing and playing and of the remaining leaves on the trees rustling together in the light winds above, occasionally one would lightly glide to the ground like a feather falling.

Underneath their feet the leaves crunched with every step they took, if it hadn't have been in such circumstances that they were walking; the walk might have been perceived as rather romantic. However romance was the least of Mac's worries.

"It's beautiful." Jo finally said. Mac nodded, pleasantly surprised that they were thinking the same.

"Yes, it certainly is." He said with a defiant nod and a playful frown.

They stopped as they reached the lake, leaves floated on the surface and some children and their parent's were playing with remote control boats, sending gentle ripples across the water.

Some brave ducks were attracted to a young girl with bread, despite the cold weather they hadn't worked out that the summer was over. Soon they would be flying south.

"I think I'm going to miss this."

Jo suddenly hit his arm. "You're not going to miss it, because you are not going anywhere."

"Jo."

"_Fine. _But _if_ you get sent to prison, you won't be there long enough to miss this."

Mac swallowed, he wanted to believe her. He just hoped she was right.

Jo looked at her watch; Mac officially had 2 and a half hours before he was expected back at his apartment.

"Mac?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think; that on the way back, we could stop off at mine? I want to say good night to Ellie before she goes to bed, when I get back I don't want to disturb her."

Mac checked his watch, they had time.

"Okay."

They started to walk back the way they came, but took another, more direct route to Jo's.

Oddly enough Mac was slightly apprehensive about seeing Ellie. He knew that Jo had more than likely told her about his arrest and the charges against him. He didn't want to be left behind by Jo; he knew that if Ellie thought he was guilty, Jo might begin to have her doubts. One the other hand, perhaps it would be for the best. He didn't want to disrupt Jo's life. She'd had enough drama with Russ; she certainly didn't need to be fighting to get her boss out of prison and grant his freedom. For all she really knew, he could be guilty.

"Ellie, it's 6 o'clock. What are you doing in your PJ's?"

"Mom!" Ellie whined. "Pajamas are more comfy." She poked her head around the door to see Mac looking at his shoes.

"Oh Hey Mac!" She exclaimed loudly, making him jump a little.

"Hi, Ellie." Mac said, smiling, masking away his fear of disapproval.

"Mom told me about what happened, what a bummer!"

That was not the reaction that Mac had anticipated. In his mild confusion he smiled and looked at Jo for help, she said nothing and rolled her eyes at her daughter.

Mac stepped forward and looked around at Jo's apartment. He was mildly surprised, other than the fridge, there didn't appear to be many florescent coloured sticky notes around. Everything seemed to be organized chaos. Mac had been here once or twice before, but he hadn't had a chance to satisfy his mild curiosity.

The first time Jo had been pretty shaken about the John Curtis situation. Mac had insisted on taking to her a hospital and then once she'd been 'okayed' by the doctors, he brought her home to a very concerned Ellie. Jo was reluctant to ask Mac into the apartment, and rightly so, a serial rapist had just hours ago attacked her, with no telling what he had planned to do. Mac shivered at the thought. He didn't condone her for not wanting him, or any other man, in her apartment that night. He had stood by the door and told her with his eyes that he understood, he'd nodded at Ellie and she had taken care of her mom during that night.

The second time was also a flying visit; Jo had been panicking about forgetting Adam's birthday and Ellie had soccer practice, so Mac offered to pick up Ellie and take her to her game, so that Jo could pick out the right gismo for Adam.

"What films do you have?" Jo inquired, giving her plans for the evening away and disappearing into the living room.

"Erh? I have some war ones, and some educational ones and some-"

Mac heard a snigger from Ellie's direction, presumably because of the expression of her mom's face.

"Mac, do you have any comedies?"

"I have the box set of Blackadder."

"You do _not_ like Blackadder."

"Why?"

Jo sighed.

"British Comedy isn't that bad you know…"

_Yes dear… _Jo thought to herself. "I'm gonna bring some movies to watch." Jo decided out loud.

'_A few days of freedom and I'm going to spend it watching crap on TV.' _Mac involuntarily thought to himself, but suddenly he didn't seem to care anymore, he silently concluded that the important thing was that he was spending time with Jo.

"Don't worry," Ellie told Mac, "If you get in any trouble, mom will get chu out. She'll just scare everyone else away…" And a cushion from the living room came flying across the kitchen aimed for Ellie.

"Thank-You Ellie." Jo said through playful gritted teeth.

Mac couldn't help but laugh, the mother-daughter connection that these two shared was unlike any he'd ever seen. Especially since Ellie was adopted, and not biologically Jo's.

"Ellie, be good, I'll see you in the morning. Please be in bed by the time I get back."

"Mom! I don't have school tomorrow, teacher training day."

"So? Sensible time please. I love you... Love you... Love you" Jo said, repeatedly kissing her on the forehead.

"Mom, Ew gross." Ellie complained and Jo turned and walked towards Mac.

"Mom, I love you too."

"Oh Ellie, can you unload the dishwasher too. Thank-You!"

"Yes Mommmm. Go! See you later."

It was just over an hour later by the time they reached Franklin Street, for a change they had been in no hurry to get anywhere so they took their time.

"So what have we got for dinner?" Jo asked, paying attention to the quiet rumbles of her stomach.

Mac remembered his bare cupboards, "Take-out? My Treat." _Since soon I may not be able to treat you at all._

"Sounds good." Jo said with a nod.

"What do you fancy?" Mac asked.

_You._ "Erm? Pizza?"

"If pizza is what you want, then pizza is what you shall have."

_Does that rule apply if I want you?_

Mac opened his apartment door and stepped aside, letting Jo enter first. He slid lock on the door behind him and looked at the wall clock in the hallway, making note of the time. It was 11 and a half hours until he was allowed out. He felt like a prisoner in his own home. Technically he was. But then again it was far better than being locked up in a grim holding cell. He had no grounds on which to protest seeing as the alternative was far worse.

"Do you wanna order?" Mac asked as he walked into the kitchen where Jo had found herself.

"Yeah," she had been squatting by an open cupboard, but when Mac entered she stood up.

"Looking for something?" Mac asked with an amused smile plastered on his face.

"Wine?"

"Ah." Mac's smile faded, he was about to offer to go and get some but he remembered his new electronical accessory that wouldn't give him enough time to get back before curfew.

"I'll give you some money," he offered. "I would go and get it myself, but I don't wanna risk it." he nodded down at his left ankle where the device was attached. The ankle tag had begun to rub, these things were not made for comfort.

"Well I don't _have_ to have wine." Jo said quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"No, but I'd like some." Mac said with a cheeky grin, "it might be the last I taste it in a while." he pulled out his wallet and held out some money.

"You." she pointed at Mac. "Have got to stop saying things like that." she used her mothering tone.

"You sound like my mother."

"Why? When you were a kid, did you say lots of things you shouldn't?"

"I didn't say that." Mac squinted and tilted his head.

Jo took the money "What would you like?"

"I want you to get, whatever you want."

"Don't go anywhere."

"Cute."

Jo's heart stopped and she span around. "What?" she asked bewildered. Mac suddenly retracted, he thought he'd overstepped the mark; he wasn't even sure why he'd said that anyway. "Erh, nothing."

"Oh, okay." Jo wasn't sure, _had he just called her cute?_ But it was too soon after Christine... right? "I won't be long,"

"Okay, be careful."

'_Be Careful' _Mac thought to himself as the door came to as close behind her. _'Is that the best you could do?' _he kicked himself; she was bound to take over the crime lab _if _he got sent down. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

Mac picked up the phone in an attempt order pizza, except for the fact that he hadn't asked her what she wanted. He knew that Jo like pepperoni, because at the Halloween movie night last year she had commented on it, but then at Adam's Birthday she had seemed to have a weak spot for the meat-feast option.

He decided to wait for her approval before he ordered. That way he couldn't get it wrong.

Mac had been with Jo almost all day, now she wasn't in his presence it felt lonely and quiet. He liked her company. The clock ticked quietly in the background and the silence was about to drive him crazy. He flipped the stereo on and suddenly his apartment was filled with 'The Blues Brothers' which happened to be the last CD he happened to listen to. He had always liked the Blues and Jazz; sometimes he listened to some rock. He didn't particularly enjoy modern music but he could just about tolerate it.

He played his favourite song on the album 'Sweet Home Chicago' and looked for a more suitable CD to play. He didn't suppose that Jo would like much of his music, she liked country music and pop, he didn't have any of that.

He ended up deciding that his best bet was to play an album with a mixed track listing. Dobie Gray's 'Drift Away' was the first song to play. Mac sat back in his armchair and let the music consume him. The clarity of the guitars cords made him smile. 'Day after day I'm more confused...'

Mac heard the door open as the chorus started to play. Suddenly he heard a southern accent come from the hallway.

"Gimmie the beat boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away..."

Mac stood up and poked his head around the door. "You listen to this?" he asked, slightly bewildered that she knew it.

"Yes. Problem?"

"No," Mac said shaking his head, "just a little surprised was all."

"Frank and I used listen to it when we were at the FBI."

"Oh." Mac wasn't sure how to answer that. Did the music hold good or bad feelings? "I can turn it off if you like." Mac suggested.

"No, no. I like it."

"Okay," Mac said with a laugh.

"So did you order pizza?"

"I was about to, but I wasn't sure what you wanted."

"Mac, I want food. I am hungry." Jo said sternly, pointing out the obvious.

Mac smiled and picked up the phone again.

"If you want something doing, do it yourself." Jo muttered to herself. She walked over to Mac and took the phone from him and put it to her own ear.

_"Antonio's pizza, how may I help you?"_

"Yes, I'd like to order a large meat feast pizza with extra pepperoni." Jo ordered and Mac laughed and received a glare from her direction.

_"And your address please?"_

"10013 Franklin Street, New York." She replied without hesitation.

_"Ok, we will be with you shortly"_

"Thank-You, bye" She hung up the phone and turned back to Mac who had a stupid grin appear on his face. He was both happy and shocked that she remembered his address. He was also far too please with himself for remembering Jo's favourite pizza. _How on earth did he remember? Last Halloween was 11 months ago._

"What?" Jo asked, smiling but genuinely confused.

"Nothing," Mac laughed and shook his head.

Jo nodded once slowly and disappeared into the Kitchen. The song changed as she returned, making her smile.

"You like this?"

Mac shrugged, "It's just on the CD"

_Does he love me I want to know…  
How can I tell if he loves me so?_

_(Is it in his eyes)  
Oh no, you'll be deceived_

_(Is it in his eyes)  
Oh no he'll make believe_

_If you wanna know if he love you so, it's in his kiss  
(That's where it is)_

In the first chorus, Mac and Jo made eye contact. Jo more than anything wanted to kiss him, but she knew it wouldn't be appropriate and she didn't want to feel rejected if it was the wrong thing to do. She didn't want to ruin their friendship or kill their chances in the future if she pushed him too far. She didn't want to push him away, especially when he needed her. She talked the idea out of her head by informing herself that it was too soon, Mac had just broken up with Christine.

Like a magnet, Mac was pulled to Jo. He wanted to kiss her. She however was his second in command – Soon to be boss. _While he rotted in jail._ If he made a move, it would be totally irresponsible; he would be doing it for completely selfish reasons. It would be wrong, well that was what he tried to convince himself.

The song passed in what seemed like no time at all, and even after it had gone, the words still drifted in the air, echoing in their ears.

"Okay," Mac said finally to break the silence, "which movie did you wanna watch?"

"I… erh? I brought a few."

"Please tell me they are not _all_ chick flicks."

"Why? Don't you like chick flicks?"

"Well they are OK, except they're a bit… girly." Mac struggles for words, to the effect of, '_we can watch whatever you want'._

"I have P.S. I love you, that's the comedy chick flick. I have Unknown, which I 'borrowed' from Tyler and I have Jonny English, that's got Rowan Atkinson in it from Blackadder."

Mac knew that Jo wanted to watch the chick flick. He also knew that she didn't really have a taste for English comedy and had probably only brought that film because he'd said he liked Blackadder. He was undecided about Unknown, though he had seen a trailer and it looked like organized crime, he didn't particularly want to watch something that even vaguely related to his case or work of which he wasn't aloud to do.

"I don't mind." Mac said, trying not to choose the chick flick out loud. "Well I'm not too keen on Unknown, and I've seen Jonny English before."

"Mac Taylor!" Jo exclaimed excitedly "Are you saying that you would rather watch P.S. I love you than a Thriller and an English comedy?"

Mac knew that was coming, he'd played right into her hand. What part of _you choose _didn't she understand. He rolled his eyes; he wasn't going to be able to live that one down, especially if it reached the lab.

"I am saying, that I will watch P.S. I love you, with you, if that is what you desire."

"Why don't we watch both?" Jo compromised.

"You're impossible. You just wanted me to say that I wanted to watch the Chick Flick."

"Mayybeee," Jo said with a grin.

The pizza arrived and Mac tipped the delivery boy. "Ok, get it while it's hot."

They sat down to watch Jonny English first with their food.

"This is delicious." Jo said, trying to not make a scene with a stringy piece of mozzarella.

"Mmm." Mac finished chewing, "Good choice." The film wasn't very long, just over an hour and 20 minutes, Jo wasn't too bothered about the film, she spent more time looking at Mac than the TV. She was afraid he might just disappear. She knew that there was a great possibility that they might not be able to do this type of thing for a very long time.

Together they managed to eat most of the Pizza, leaving just two slices. Mac stood up as the credits started to roll. "I'm gonna put this in the fridge." He said picking up the remaining Pizza "I'll bring out some glasses."

"Ok, sounds good." Jo stood up and switched the DVD to play P.S. I love you. She was going to enjoy watching Mac squirm under the mushiness of it all.

Mac poured the red wine and handed Jo a glass. "Here."

"Thank-You."

"It's me that should be thanking you. We wouldn't have any if you had not gone to get it."

"Yes but you paid for it."

Some silence passed, and Jo eventually pressed play on the remote. Mac, at first was confused to why they were watching this, but he sat patiently for 10minites, not convinced that it was his type of film at all.

Jo shivered slightly having returned Mac's Jacket, this didn't go unnoticed by Mac and he reached around her where he kept a blanket. Accidentally, Mac caught the back of Jo's necklace and beads went flying everywhere.

Jo started to laugh at the horrified expression on Mac's face, he showed true remorse for something as silly as a broken piece of jewelry.

"I am so, sorry." Mac said immediately, completely embarrassed.

"Don't worry," Jo said, still grinning stupidly.

"I will get you a new one." Mac offered.

"No really, it's fine."

It wasn't a heavily beaded necklace, just a few detailed glass beads but somehow they seemed to have spread themselves around Mac's apartment in every direction.

Jo started to fumble around with blanket, he wasn't sure what to do; did he encourage her to snuggle into him so that she would be warmer? Or would that send off the wrong messages? What were the wrong messages? Quickly, Mac's attention was brought back to the gentle tugs of Jo and the blanket. "Here." Mac said simply and pulled her around so she could lean on him and the blanket covered them both. "I was cold too." He simply said, excusing his actions. She glanced around at him as a smirk played on his face. The lead male role was wearing nothing but oddly patterned boxers, high heels and a brace.

Mac saw, out of the corner of his eye, Jo smiling at his expression. "Don't you get any ideas."

* * *

**Author Note:**

**Ok so, I did write that a while ago and I am sorry for not getting it up earlier, I just like to have a couple of chapters pre-written ahead of what I have published. It helps me stay on track.  
**

**So my updates will not be daily, I seem to just get busier and busier. I hope everyone is having a good summer (: & I hope you enjoyed.  
**

**As always I do love to read your reviews ~ Always cheers me up.  
**

**Until the next chapter... ;D  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces losing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Nine – Nine_

The weather had turned and dark clouds and harsh gusts of wind had smothered the autumn beauty from the day before. Rain beat hard against the window pane and signs of winter began to set in.

Mac awoke to the quiet thuds of the rain pounding at his window. He liked listening to the water, it was somehow soothing. He sat up in bed still thinking of the night before. Jo had been persuaded to take a nightcap because it was late when they finally finished watching the films. Mac would have rather taken her home himself, but of course at that hour he couldn't, so because he didn't particularly relish in the fact she'd have to walk alone, he'd offered for her to stay. She accepted and had called Ellie, of which Ellie did not answer, and so she left an answer phone message. She told Ellie that she was safe, at Mac's and that she would be home in the morning.

Mac rubbed his hand over his face and briefly glanced at him alarm; it was 6 o'clock. He didn't expect that Jo would have stirred; only realistically having about 4 hours sleep. Which over the years, Mac had become accustom to poor sleeping patterns and lack of a decent nights rest. Due to his bail conditions he was not aloud out for at least another hour, he liked to run when he couldn't sleep however now that was no longer an option. He hadn't been formally convicted yet, and already his everyday choices were slipping away from him. If this had been any other day, he would have gone out for a jog.

He felt the electronic tag dig into his ankle; his mark of humiliation was still there inflicting both physical and emotional pain. It wasn't even a punishment; it was something designed not to stop him fleeing New York. He had been told what he could and couldn't do with it, it was waterproof so he could take a shower, he wasn't allowed to tamper with it, he had to stick to curfew or expect a manhunt for him in the City.

Jo had taken the spare room across the hallway, and Mac thought it best not to disturb her. But he couldn't sit in bed and do nothing; it wasn't in his nature to laze about all day, or even stay in bed past the point of sleeping. He pulled the covers from himself, letting cold and unwelcome air reach his body and sleepily he wondered into the kitchen, not bothering to flatten his pillow ruffled hair.

He decided to flick the news channel on, which was a big mistake. The Killer Cop, McKenna Taylor, released on bail. _Killer Cop_, is that the best they could come up with?

The TV gave the entertainment version of the story "After his initial Appearance yesterday, McKenna Taylor was release on bail awaiting trial that is to take place tomorrow. Detective McKenna Taylor, head of the New York Crime Lab, is facing charges of first-degree murder. Commissioner Sinclair released a statement to the press after the hearing yesterday."

Sinclair's voice filled the room. "Detective Taylor has been under public scrutiny before, In 2007 Taylor was under an internal investigation for the death of suspect Clay Dobson while he was in police custody. Clay Dobson was beaten and hand cuffed before throwing himself over the roof of a tall building, some believe with Detective's Taylor's help.

McKenna Taylor was exonerated from all charges at the time. The case in hand is not been dealt with internally, this is a far more serious charge and we have had to bring in the FBI as reinforcements so as there is no bias, especially since the last accusation McKenna Taylor faced. We don't want to be seen as giving Mr. Taylor any special treatment; if he has broken the law then he shall be punished just like anybody else.

I want to emphasis to the public of New York City that nobody is above the law. Captain Stanston Gerrard and Officer Dean Trube are receiving their punishments that they deserve and Now Detective McKenna Taylor will also face the consequences if he is found guilty.

Reporter's crowded in around him, asking questions like 'Do you think he is guilty?' And 'What length of time should the defendant spend in prison.' Mac switched off the TV, he didn't want to know what they thought of him. He wanted to be able to live his life without anybody looking over his shoulder. Now, he would never be able to do that. Being here, with Jo, without the world had made him forget all his troubles. He didn't want to go to prison. Prison was a particularly dangerous and daunting place to be for a cop, especially in New York, where there would be many familiar, unfriendly faces that he did not want to ever see again.

Mac had been thinking on this matter for some time, this topic had been playing on his mind.

He would be lying if he said it hadn't crossed his mind. He wanted to run, he wanted to get as far away from New York and geographically possible. He wanted to get away from the possibility of going to prison. However if he ran it would be just as helpful as labeling himself guilty. If he hid, it would be like announcing to the public that he had something to hide. He couldn't do that to Sid, to the team, or to Jo. He would have to face the accusation square-on and deal with the consequences.

He had a couple of things he needed to discuss with Jo regarding what should happen if he were incarcerated. He quietly played 'The Blues Brothers' to drown out the doubts in the air from the media coverage. He then went about making breakfast. He had little in his cupboards that warranted enough to make breakfast for. He had 3 eggs Milk, bread, butter and coffee. That would do. Scrambled eggs on toast, a Black coffee for him and a milky coffee for Jo.

Mac made breakfast, and since Jo hadn't emerged from her room, he tapped lightly on the door. No answer, and so he went in. As he'd expected Jo was still sleeping. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed from where Jo had curled up. She was beautiful when she slept, so natural, so peaceful. _What are you thinking Mac Taylor!? It would never work! Besides the fact that you just broke up with Christine and that Jo is your second in command, you are more than likely going to prison tomorrow._ Shaking the thought from his head, he returned to a little place most people called earth.

"Jo."

"Hmmm." Jo groaned. Her eyes flickered open to face a nightstand that wasn't hers. Suddenly, after a minor panic, she remembered and a smile replaced the look of concern.

"I brought you breakfast." The velvets tones of his voice filled the room and melted her heart, she'd recognize Mac anywhere.

She semi-got up and shifted on her elbows. "Mac, do you know what time it is!"

"Yes, yes, I do. It's..." he looked at his watch. "Six Twenty-Seven" he pulled a face at her expression. "Too early for breakfast?" Mac asked, looking down at the tray in his lap.

"No, no." Jo denied quickly. "It's been ages since someone made me breakfast in bed. I don't care what time it is."

She made more of an attempt to sit up and smiled at Mac, she wondered if Christine got this type of treatment when they were together, being made breakfast in bed, for her, was an enormous gesture.

"The last time I was made breakfast in bed, Ellie was about 5." Jo smiled at the treasured memory. She playfully pretended that the smile was no longer genuine, and slightly forced "I spent 4 hours after cleaning the kitchen."

Mac couldn't help but curl his lips at that, handing her coffee, she nodded in gratitude. After taking a sip, she placed in on the nightstand. He took his plate and cutlery off of the tray and then handed Jo her food on the tray.

"Mac!" Jo exclaimed after the first bite. "This is amazing! Adam is right, how are you so good at everything?"

Mac could do nothing but roll his eyes. "I'm not good at e_verything._"

"Urhuh? Then what do you completely suck at?"

"Golf."

"Like crazy golf or proper golf."

"Both."

"I have to see this."

Mac groaned. '_Really?'_ "Well I'm not trying to disappoint you, but incase you haven't realized. They might not let me out to play golf with you."

Jo grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him.

"What is it with you and chucking cushions at people?" Mac said with a laugh.

"We _are _going to play golf."

"Hmmhumm" Mac mumbled unconvinced.

"Today."

"I have one day of freedom and you want me to spend it playing golf?"

"Yes. But today is one of many days of freedom. Ellie isn't at school today, we can ask her if she wants to come."

"You are actually being serious?"

"Yes."

"Well Ellie may have made plans."

Jo enjoyed watching Mac squirm under the idea of playing golf, it was rather entertaining. Mac always acted as if whatever talents he had was natural and at the same time never boasted. But apparently golf was another story. He didn't want to embarrass himself, when usually he could just do what needed doing and not have to worry about giving himself a bad reputation. Golf seemed to be his weak point.

"Fine. But we _will_ go."

"Okay. Fine." Mac let out a chuck, shaking his head he may be nearly 75 before he got out, he'd end up using a golf club as a walking stick.

Mac cleared away the dirty dishes from the bedroom and gave Jo time to change. In the meantime he ended up putting the stereo on again, this time Dobie Gray again.

_Day after day I'm more confused… _

_Yet I look for the light through the pouring rain... _

_You know that's a game that I hate to loose..._

_And I'm feeling the strain..._

The song seemed fit the situation perfectly. Mac bobbed his head in time with the music, feeling great joy emanating from the speakers.

• • •

Mac ended up meeting with his lawyer, partly to thank him for getting him bail, partly to discuss any further developments in the case. As Mac opened the door to the coffee shop, a waft of freshly ground coffee swept over him. He would miss scent of fresh coffee. Now he had to think about it, there was an awful lot that he had taken for granted. There was an awful lot that he was going to miss.

"So, you're still here then?" Richard asked as he stood up in the coffee shop to shake his hand. Mac looked awake, Richard on the other hand looked as though he got dragged out of bed for this meeting. He looked weathered as his hair was wet and the wind had burned his cheeks into a slightly red colour.

"You thought I'd breach my bail conditions?" Mac asked, not feeling particularly happy with the way the conversation had started.

"I wasn't sure." Richard admitted, returning is gaze back to his cup, toying with his drink.

Mac raised his eyes brows and nodded once, he assumed if he were in Richard's position, he would be very much as skeptical as him.

"I went back to the crime scene last night to try and discredit the witness." He looked at Mac as though trying to judge his reaction. "There is a security light and a phony camera. While we obviously can't get anything from the camera, the light is bright enough for someone to have witnessed the shooting. I think she _could_ have seen you."

Mac very quickly had the sudden urge to punch his representative there and then. However now wasn't the best time to let his emotions give them more ammunition to send him down for longer, "Breanna Martin didn't see _me_. _I_ wasn't there."

"Right." Richard wasn't either convinced or sarcastic; it was just a plain statement. "You're fingerprints are on the shell casings"

"That is probably because I loaded the bullets into the magazine."

"All the evidence adding up against you."

"Some of it can be explained, can't it be thrown out of court?"

"Some of the evidence cannot be explained, evidence can only be thrown out of court it if was obtained illegally by the police."

"Yes, yes I know. But why should the evidence be harmful to my case if I can explain it?"

"Are you suggesting that you want to take the stand?" Richard tried to read him, but it seemed impossible. "Mac, I don't think that is the best idea you have ever had, the prosecutor will rip you down with the evidence you can't explain." Mac shifted in his seat at the thought. "I was even going to suggest that you might get a lighter sentence if you change your plea to guilty."

"What?" Mac stood up and backed away from the lawyer. "I didn't do it, I will not sink to the witnesses low level and add perjury to my list of charges!"

Mac had a good mind to fire the lawyer, but his trial was tomorrow morning, he would have little more than 24 hours to come up with a replacement that believed him. The truth was that Richard was good at what he did and like any cold-hearted defense lawyer; he didn't let his feelings get in the way of the best interests of the client.

"Thank you for getting me bail," Mac said shortly, through a square jaw of almost gritted teeth. "But on this occasion I am going to ignore your advice and plead 'Not Guilty,' seeing as that is the truth!" without another word he stormed out of the coffee shop.

After the door slammed behind Mac, the lawyer looked into his tea, if he was Mac, he felt sure he would have fled.

There appeared to be exactly nine people that believed him. Danny, Lindsay, Sheldon, Don, Adam, Sid, Reed, Jo and Ellie. Not even his own lawyer was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mac wondered how lawyers could take a stand on an issue and not believe it.

He thought back to Jo and the team. Suddenly there was something urgent that she needed to deal with at work. The pressing matter had called her away and he had been abandoned. Feeling a little left out, his pride took another knock. She was the boss now, though Mac fully intended to share his thoughts of who her replacement should be. Danny.

He had to laugh at himself really; he didn't want to loose his job. He didn't want to loose his life; he just wanted this nightmare to go away. But trying to make the best out of a bad situation, Mac knew that the lab could cope without him and the team would continue to be great with Jo's guidance instead of his.

• • •

Jo had given herself the day off; she was too distracted at work to stay past the rambles of Sinclair's words about the investigation. They met in the Library, If Mac only had one day of freedom he was going to find out who was doing this to him.

"Well that's just perfect." Mac muttered sarcastically under his breath,

"Mac, there was nothing I could do."

"I know, I know. Sinclair can be a real piece of work sometimes. Before I'm even out of the Lab he's given my job away. But then again, I can't argue, you were the best candidate. Did you get called in _just_ for that?"

"Yes. I'm not taking it."

"What?" Mac said quickly, he looked into her eyes and she told him what she meant. "Jo, we spoke about this. You can't give up your life to try and rescue me."

"Well there isn't a lot you can do about it." Jo smiled. "Since you can't go to the lab, talk to any witnesses or look over the evidence,"

Mac grumpily signed at the thought. He did not want to be constantly reminded by the fact that his life was being pulled out from under him.

"I would like to be prepared if this comes to the worst." Jo finished

Mac nodded, he wanted to sort this out once and for all.

"Are you allowed those?" Mac asked, looking at the folder of criminal case files that he'd put away.

"I am." Jo said with a nod, trying not to make Mac feel any worse by telling him he technically wasn't.

"So who are our suspects?"

Mac paused for a moment; all the bad men and women he put away all seemed to merge together. He felt sick. Mac was silent, he tried to think, tried to balance the means and opportunity in his head. It was impossible; he'd put to many people away. "I honestly couldn't tell you Jo. I just don't know."

"These are the criminals that never pleaded guilty. Maybe they feel that somehow they were wrongly accused. Maybe they were innocent."

She pushed a pile towards the centre of the table,

"You think that I put someone away that had actually done nothing wrong?" Mac asked, seriously hoping that he wouldn't have to storm out of there as well. She was accusing him of doing what the team investigating his case were doing. Getting it wrong, causing an innocent man to be put on the stand and accused of a crime he simply did not do. Now he knew what it felt like, maybe in the future he would see someone's not guilty plea differently. Perhaps they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps like Mac, they had just been set up. He wasn't in the mood for being blamed for anything, even if he had made a mistake somewhere in the past. He knew that everyone made mistakes just now wasn't the right time to pin them on him.

The look on his face told Jo everything he needed to know. She didn't want him to walk out on her. Mac never made mistakes. It sounded bold and impossible, but that didn't stop the fact that he just didn't.

Jo pushed another pile next to the first, "These are the criminals that have claimed police misconduct and say that they were forced into a confession – You might be an easier target because of Dobson."

Mac put his head in his hands, sighed and ruffled his hair, murmuring "Great" just loud enough for Jo to hear.

"Ok, Well maybe a family member thought that a convict was innocent and this is payback."

"I've seen that before." Mac said, remembering Shane Casey's stunt with Sheldon. "Did Sheldon ever tell you about the time he was arrested?"

"The same guy that Linds shot." Jo recalled. "The first day I met you guys it was her ceremony for the combat cross."

"Yeah, he was convinced his brother was innocent. He wasn't. Head-case Casey framed Sheldon to try and exonerate his dead brother."

"Sheldon was innocent, he is free." Jo said, emphasizing that justice was served and Sheldon didn't go to prison.

"Yes, but the only thing that linked Sheldon to the shooting was a single eyewitness and some money. Jo, I am up against so much forensic evidence here. If I were investigating the case, I might be inclined to believe the false evidence."

"Don't make me hit you again Mac Taylor. You are a better cop than that and you know it. You would listen to the suspect, take everything into account and look over everything again. Measure twice, cut once, remember?"

Mac tried to smile, and nodded.

"Do you know what evidence is left unexplained?" Mac asked, hoping that within that, they may find something to exonerate him with. However now, everyone had already painted him out to be the monster, the bad cop, and the one needing punishment. If the officials investigating found evidence that disagreed with their theory now, he had an aching feeling that instead of bringing it to anyone's attention, they would burry it and pretend it never existed. He knew that was the exact opposite to what he and his team would do, but he couldn't help but feel that the two parties didn't share the same morals.

"I'm afraid I don't. Though Stephanie did let it slip that some kind of plastic was found, however they couldn't identify its origin. It's not going to be part of the evidence that is presented to the jury. They are not even sure that it is relevant evidence."

"Right now, everything is relevant."

The time passed in silence as they began to read articles and reports.

"Mac, maybe this isn't about you at all."

Mac felt the confusion rise within him. Not about him? What part of this did not affect his life?

"Maybe we are looking at this in the completely the wrong way. Maybe the real killer just used you to cover up his crime. You'd be the perfect person, you kinda have motive to kill him"

"I don't"

"It is plausible."

"Ok." Mac said reluctantly, not wanting to admit it, he would never have motive to kill someone in cold blood. He could see how someone could suggest that Mac could have had the motive to Kill Mr. Williams.

"They need someone to go down for the crime, you live nearby, you already had that scuffle with him early during the day, and you were passionate about the case. Unfortunately that is enough to pin this on you."

"What about the witness?" Mac paused to allow himself time to think. "How did the witness see _me_? I wasn't even there."

"Maybe she is confused, maybe she saw you at the crime scene when you arrived for your shift or perhaps she has been coerced in to perjury."

"Or maybe she is in on it." Mac stated clearly.

"Mac, we don't have any evidence to suggest that." Jo said, trying to make Mac seem sense, now they were clutching at straws.

"She doesn't look like an innocent bystander to me."

The two of them sat in the library with no one bothering them for the remainder of the morning and early afternoon, they looked through an early report that Mac had taken of the crime scene, the convicts that Mac had helped put away by testifying as an expert witness in court. All of them had motive to do something like this, except they were all still in prison or dead.

Gregory William's file was the next that they looked over.

A few years ago Mac and Jo's predecessor, Stella, had worked a case involving the kidnapping of a young girl; Gregory Williams now was a person of interest back then. The missing girl was never found and the case went cold. The case had been originally Stella's case and she had filed it away when she left. Something inside Mac's gut told him that Gregory was guilty then, and the same feeling repeated in the more recent case today.

"Who would benefit from me being locked up?" Mac wondered out loud.

"No one." Jo said instinctively

Mac rolled his eyes, and then the words repeated in his head, the seriousness played on his mind. His head snapped to face her. He met her gaze for a short while before she looked down.

"Sinclair gets another round of free publicity as a man that is taking action, just in time for the elections." Jo offered.

"I hate politics."

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**Author Note:  
**

**Sorry for this chapter, it is probably the dullest I have written. It's been a long wait for you lovely readers and for something not that special. I hope you liked it nonetheless, and I promise things will get interesting soon. (Well at least from my point of view) - Don't be scared to leave a review (:  
**

**Thank you for those who have stuck with this story with my really random, unpredictable uploading patterns. & Thanks to those who have favourited or put me or 'Paradox' on alert. I really appreciate the support.  
**

**I'd love to know your thoughts on the whole situation. ;D I thought up the whole scenario by thinking of ways to get rid of our Blonde Dull Barbie (BDB for short, ehhy Quille?) Or Better known as Christine. Who likes her?  
**

**Ok, enough babble from me. You know you want to, send me a review ;D Thank you (:  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces losing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Ten – Sweet Home Chicago_

Mac and Jo made their way back to Mac's apartment after their attempts in the library. They had so much to think about, there were endless possibilities to the true culprit's identity. There were too many victims in this nightmare: Mac, a victim of a set up, Gregory Williams, the victim of a bullet, and Mollie Granger, the missing child.

"Jo," Mac said tenderly, getting her attention by touching her arm.

"Yeah?" Jo felt a pleasant welcome warmth of shivers glide through her as the heat from him traveled over the area he was touching.

"I need to talk to you, and I don't think you are going to like it."

Serious panic and concern rippled through her veins, she didn't want to hear him give up, or try to convince her to give up. She wouldn't ever turn her back on him.

Mac didn't want to keep her in suspense, and so dragged her to a chair and then sat down himself.

"I've been thinking. I have helped put many people away, Jo, an awful lot. A good majority of them have gone to Rikers, here in New York, with the exception of a few of course."

Jo was confused with the direction of their conversation, although she didn't say anything her facial expression revealed her thoughts.

"I do not want to be surrounded by the criminals in Rikers, I'll bet I wouldn't even last a day if someone made me as a cop, or worse tied me to the reason they are in there in the first place."

"Prison is a dangerous place for a cop." Jo agreed. "W-what are you saying?" Jo didn't want Mac to be miles away, she wanted to see him everyday.

"I am saying that if I get sent to prison, I don't want to be a sitting duck here in New York."

Jo took a second to take this in with a sharp inhale, he was right, she didn't like what he was saying. However, as usual, Mac was absolutely correct in everything he said. If he got incarcerated he couldn't stay in the city. There were too many dangerous people against him.

"If I get sent to prison." Mac said seriously, "I think Oakwoods State Penitentiary would be the most sensible option."

"Oakwoods?" Jo almost gasped. "But that's in Chicago!" she wanted to whine, cry and tell him not to go. But she knew that actually, Mac was thinking more clearly than she was. It wasn't Mac's choice; his fate lay in the hands of the 12 jurors assigned to his case. Looking over the evidence, Jo knew that Mac's attorney had one hell of a fight on his hands.

"I'll be closer to my mom, she may want to visit." Mac looked down at his own hands, "I haven't told her yet. But in Chicago I'll be closer to home." He felt the disapproving words that his mother could fire at him sink in. His whole life he had tried to live up to his father's standards and his parents' expectations. This simply wouldn't cut it.

"Oakwoods is Maximum security." Jo whispered, regulating her breathing so as not to burst out in tears.

"Jo, prison is no holiday park. They don't send convicted murders to minimum-security prisons. This is serious."

Jo look slightly dumbfounded at his little outburst, he regretted his words immediately after they passed his lips, "I'm sorry." He sighed, "I know you don't think that." He shook his head, as if angry with himself. There was so much pain and frustration. There was nothing he could do. If he did storm into the lab to get a look at the evidence and put it all into context, he would end up getting a longer sentence over all for breaking bail conditions. Worse than that, if he did find something that would exonerate him, it wouldn't be submissible in court, the DA would claim it was fabricated evidence. He'd rather it'd be left alone for someone one day to free him than scupper all his chances now.

Looking up at Jo, he forced a fake smile, knowing that he'd faced many dangerous situations before and come out the other side but now he was facing this it really would be a test of his character, strength and awareness. "In comparison to Rikers, there will be fewer unfriendly familiar faces. If I keep my head down, I may be alright." The end of his sentence sounded more hopeful than he wished to express.

"You have thought about this, haven't you." Jo said tilting her head and with a nod, she realised that this was the sensible option, the only option.

"What if I want to come and see you?"

"I'll understand if you wouldn't want to travel all that distance. Obviously I would love for you to come and visit me," -_in fact I couldn't imagine it if you didn't._

"Don't worry, just you try and stop me." Jo smiled, reassuring Mac of what he already knew deep down. They sat in each other's quiet company for a short while, as the thoughts of their conversation lingered in the air. The atmosphere was dark and filled with negativity. Prison really was a serious likelihood.

Breaking the silence, Mac spoke "There was one other thing that I wanted to say," again he shifted, almost unwilling to tell her something. "If I get sent down…" He paused; he'd started the sentence much more confidently than he was finishing it.

Jo sensed his struggling, and confidently touched his arm and smiled, looking in to his blue orbs. "You might not, they don't usually send innocent men to prison."

Mac rubbed his forehead, not wanting to know the statistics but he did. "About 3% of all convicts are innocent."

"That doesn't mean that you are going to prison, that means that people make mistakes."

"It certainly doesn't mean that I'm not," He reached across and held her hand "I don't want you, or Ellie to suffer because of me. You deserve so much better."

"Mac you are my friend, _you_ deserve better than this. I don't know exactly what you expect me to do, but it isn't do nothing. Ellie and I will be fine. It might be tough, but she is a tough kid and she understands that if you go down, I have got to get you out."

"Jo, you don't have to do anything for me."

"Mac." She said sternly. "If the situation was reversed, and I was facing serious jail time, would you sit back and watch me rot in a cell?"

"Well… No."

"Right then. End of conversation. We spend our lives chasing down bad guys and helping the justice system put bad people away. And for what price? I am not going to sit back and watch it fail a close friend and work colleague. I won't let it fail you."

"Jo, I don't want you to expect miracles, I could be there for years before the appeals reach the courts."

"Mac, you're not in prison yet, it might not come to that."

"Jo." Mac said, wanting her to put herself first for once. She spend her time looking after everybody else she didn't see the effects it had on her. "you don't own your apartment, do you?"

Jo shot a look of confusion in Mac's direction, where the hell was he going with that?

"No, no I don't. Ellie and I were going to settle in before.."

"If you took time off work to help me, how do you think you are going to pay rent? How are you going to feed yourselves? How are you going to survive?"

"Mac" Jo tried to smile, but he was being to irritate her, she was doing all she could to convince him she'd help him out if it took months, a couple of years, or even ten years. He was acting as if he didn't deserve her help. "I don't know why you still don't believe me, I will get you out. I haven't figured out my finacial state yet, but funnily enough I am still hoping that you _don't _go to prison. You have lost hope. I have some savings, Ellie and I will manage."

"Look," Mac said, shuffling forward "This isn't exactly how I wanted to say this," He paused feeling slightly awkward, _he never was any good at this type of thing._ "While I am gone, I will need someone to look after this place. I have two bedrooms here. I-mean, if it would help, you and Ellie could live here if you insist on perusing with the case.

Jo's head sharply moved to face Mac. He was deadly serious and it did make sense. _Not the way she pictured Mac asking her to move in._ – Well she never imagined he ever would. "Mac. I-erm. I don't know what to say."

"Say yes" Mac said with a cheesy grin, completely lifting the depressing atmosphere.

"Yes."

After some light chatting between friends about nothing of importance, Mac walked Jo to the door, she wanted to spend some time with Ellie, watch her play in the finals of her soccer club.

"You're sure you'll be alright?" Jo asked cautiously, not wanting to leave Mac to aimlessly wonder around all by himself. However she respected his privacy and suspected that he would want some time alone to reflect. Then the involuntary thought crossed her mind, 'he may soon only have time. Time to serve in prison.'

"Yes, Jo. I will be fine." Mac insisted, he did not want Jo to miss out on Ellie's soccer game because of him. _Besides how much trouble could he get in without her for a few hours?_

Jo walked out of the door, letting her hair fall back, captivating Mac. She turned around slightly, and smiled to see him watching her. She said nothing and continued on here way.

He was regularly grilled about staying late at work, or not going home. But who wanted to go home to an empty apartment? After Claire passed, a void was created in his heart. It was black hole that he could not close, a place where constant pain droned on. The wound in his chest was healing, but it had been healing for a long time. It had taken him 10 years to get this far and yet he still feared the empty space he called home. He had no one to go home to.

He had felt the same way for years. But now, in the last 2 years, it was different. Jo had waltzed into his life and brightened the place up. He glanced around his apartment, seeing a hairbrush of hers and the DVDs she'd brought, her necklace beads still scattered over the rug and under the coffee table. It made him smile, seeing her messiness around his place made his apartment look more like a home instead of a place he resided.

The silence rang in his ears, alerting him to the truth that he was in fact alone. He was so alone he had nothing to do, nobody to see. The ticking of the clock emphasised the other non-existent sound waves. It felt like hours before Mac decided to move, expecting Jo back at any time. However it had only been 5 minutes since she left.

Mac felt pathetic. He couldn't call anyone; he didn't want to get anyone involved in this. The only people he knew that could help him were working and he couldn't disturb them and give the DA more ammunition to dampen his chances of freedom. The irony was unbelievable; the people that could help worked for the people that wanted him behind bars.

Mac decided that he should call and visit Reed; after all he probably had as many questions about this whole fiasco as Mac did himself.

After writing a note for Jo to briefly explain his whereabouts in case she returned before he did, he walked out the door with confidence. Telling his mind that nothing was wrong.

• • •

Mac swirled the remainder of his almost cold coffee at the bottom of his polystyrene cup. He and Reed had arranged to meet by the old oak tree in Madison Square Park. There was a bench there where Mac could wait. Waiting wasn't something Mac was used to as a boss. Patience was a virtue, but for so many years he hadn't had to be. Had he just become impatient? Mac looked back down at the swirling blackness, embarrassed of his latest revelation.

Reed walked around the corner on the path, hands in his pockets, head down.

"Mac." He said in a monotone voice that neither convinced Mac that he was believed or that he was being accused of the impossible again.

Mac decided to take a leaf out of Jo's book and be optimistic for a change. He smiled and nodded at the closest person Mac had to a son. "Hey Reed, how you doing?"

"Yeah, good you know. Look Mac before you say anything I want to get something out of the way."

Mac hoped to high heaven that Reed was not about to ask him of his involvement in the case. Though he wouldn't have blamed him. He would have tried to understand and have worked through it.

"Look I know you didn't do this. I mean, you've stuck your neck out for me more times than I care to mention and I know you don't have it in you. I mean, what would mom have seen in you if you were capable of something like this, right?" Reed looked at his shoes for comfort, not wanted to make eye contact and find out what he feared most to be true.

"I-I-Erh. I just wanted to get that out there." He finally said looking up again.

"Thank-you." Was the only thing that came to Mac's mind. It seemed the most logical answer. Like nobody ever knows what to reply when wished a happy birthday, thank you was the immediate response. This however was no celebration – Not that birthday's were occasions to celebrate anymore either, he had simply survived another year and got that little bit older.

"So. I'm head journalist now." Reed said, trying to change both the subject and the mood, but failed on both accounts.

"Congratulations." Mac said proudly, but he knew that Reed had been assigned to his case; Reed had developed much as a person and a journalist, he was no longer as pushy to get the story but had become more passionate instead. Mac was annoyed at himself for thinking that Reed would only be interested in a story for the public's entertainment.

"You know, just after we organised this meeting I had a strange phone call," Reed said, intriguing Mac.

When Mac was either confused, couldn't believe his ears, or fascinated with a case, he would cock his head to aside and look somewhere into the distance, showing the cogs working in his head. A concerned look was placed on his face as he held his expression with Reed.

Mac looked around quickly to see if he had been followed or if there was a threat of any kind.

Reed laughed, but cut himself short when he realized Mac was serious. "No, Mac" He said, chocking down another chuckle. "The lady said her name was Jo Danville." Mac calmed instantly at the sound of her name, though he didn't want to make anything too obvious, not to Reed, not to anybody.

"She knew that I work for a newspaper, she asked me to publish your side of the story, to tell the truth."

Mac wanted to snap back 'That would be a first, a newspaper telling the truth.' But he wasn't going to disrespect Reed's profession and so he stayed quiet.

"Which I was going to do anyway." Reed quickly added just in case Mac had missed the point, or thought that this Jo had persuaded him.

Jo and Reed had not officially met, while they would have seen each other at the court and at the lab, they had never been formally introduced. Mac had felt a little edgy about introducing her to Reed for no particular reason that he had found.

Mac was glad to have the chance to have a catch up with Reed, even if it had been these unfortunate circumstances that had prompted it. Reed was someone Mac found it easy to converse with, he had all the tells of his mother, Mac knew what Reed was trying to say before he'd opened his mouth.

• • •

It was still early afternoon by the time he had parted ways with Reed, they had spoken a little about the case and court and what Mac wanted the public to know but mostly they had chatted about work, the weather, baseball and anything else that came to mind. Mac was extremely grateful that he was allowed an outlet that allowed his mind to be taken off of the pressure of a high profile murder charge that lingered over his shoulder.

Mac entered a small, low-key jewellery shop that he remembered from long ago. He had promised to get Jo a new necklace for his clumsiness and that is exactly what he intended to do.

Never before had Mac been that clumsy, in everything he did. He felt a wave of stupidity descend on him.

Woman's jewellery wasn't exactly his forté, but he felt that he knew Jo well enough to choose something she'd like; he wanted to surprise her.

He glanced over the hanging pieces of silver, instantly regretting his attempts of purchasing something without Jo being present. There were Celtic ones, Chinese ones, ones with hidden meanings, complex ones, simple ones, silver ones, gold ones, eccentric ones, there were too many to take in. He knew he didn't want to get Jo a pendant in the shape of a heart, not because he didn't love her, but because it seemed too cliché.

"Hello, Can I help you with anything" The woman behind the counter greeted Mac happily with a warm smile. Her face dropped slightly and she glanced across at the newspaper, half folded over on the counter. Showing half of Mac's face, he had made front page.

"Hi" Mac nodded, seeing where her attention had been diverted. It did truly feel like everyone was against him. Or at least immediately unsure of his intentions. "I am looking for a necklace."

The woman looked around, "Yes… Well... You have come to the right place." She had grown bitter; she had snapped out of her happy go lucky shopkeeper self and now was skeptical and sarcastic. "Is it for someone special?"

Without hesitation, "Yes, yes it is." There was no point in pretending; Jo was a very special person dear to him.

She smiled, beginning to feel more comfortable around the man who had been portrayed as pure evil in the paper. If he were so terrible, would he really be in here buying gifts?

"What's the occasion?" The shop assistant asked, attempting to be helpful.

Yet there didn't appear to be an occasion, maybe it was an apology, perhaps a goodbye?

"There isn't one." Mac smiled. He didn't want to voice either one of his thoughts; the magnitude that they could be misinterpreted was not worth the risk. If he had said that it was an apology, she might have come to the conclusion that he was sorry for shooting Gregory Williams, or if he had said the gift was a farewell, it maybe have been seen that he was attempting to skip bail. Mac was already thinking like a criminal, covering his tracks. It almost sounded like he had something to hide, or was he just being paranoid?

Mac stood marveling at the glimmering items in front of him. Who was he kidding? They all looked the same. What was the difference between an extra gem?

"Okay, well these are our best sellers," she pointed to a rack with about 10 pieces of jewellery, "These are our newest items." She pointed in another direction, but Mac was already preoccupied with one.

It was a delicate silver pendant that had caught Mac's attention. The shop keep was still talking, but Mac did not take in a word she was saying. The silver was displayed in such a way that at this time of the day, the light reflected brilliant sparkles into the whole shop.

It wasn't too big, which seemed perfect, with the amount of other jewellery she wore at the same time. The pendant had an amethyst crystal perfectly placed in the centre, dazzling in the light. There was only one word to describe it's beauty, _'Jo'._ Apparently the way the silver rippled into itself was called a double wave.

"What about that?" Mac asked, interrupting her well prepared sales pitch, having already made up his mind.

"Yes." Was the simple response he received, it was almost as if she was shocked by his choice. Most men that entered the shop would be there for hours umm-ing and arhh-ing for the right one usually for an anniversary or a birthday gift.

This man was completely the opposite, in fact he was different from the first moment he'd stepped in. Some thing about this man cried out in pain, he wasn't your ordinary, everyday punter. The media had painted him in such awful light, that they didn't even know what they were looking at. The media had not broadcast the whole truth, they had left things out to increase the interest of the story, to keep people entertained, to make money and sell papers.

No man with a black soul would ever choose something so pretty. This pendant revealed he knew the love of his life's soul, probably without even realizing it.

The odd fact of the matter was that this pretty item had not been a popular sale. People had gone with other pieces, as if they looked past it's true meaning.

Mac nodded and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; he hadn't any need to wear a suit. He slipped the box into his coat pocket and continued on his way to nowhere.

* * *

**Author Note:**

**So I haven't re read this since I wrote it. I hope I didn't make any major errors, I promised Quille I'd get this up today, here is me keeping my word ;D  
**

**I hope you all enjoyed the newest update, and I hope you have had a lovely summer... Almost over now ): I hope people are still reading this ;D  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**CSI NEW YORK FANFICTION - PARADOX**

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**Summary:**_**"**__McKenna Taylor Junior, you are under arrest for the suspicion of murder," A cold voice informed him._ The Boss of the NYPD Crime Lab faces losing it all. His job, his friends, his sanity and even his life are in grave danger as an unexpected lead in the evidence makes him the prime suspect in a murder investigation.

_Chapter Eleven – The Wall._

"HEY! It's the guy of the Telly!" Someone yelled as Mac crossed the street, allowing his feet to carry him wherever they pleased. Mac at first didn't realise they were talking about him. He glanced back to see what all the commotion was about as a small crowd of about ten people were gathering.

Some guy that just wanted to start a fight puffed his chest out and pranced over to Mac. His ears pricked to hear the disheartening shouts of the growing interested parties, again just wanting entertainment from Mac's life. "You should be in jail!" "Look what our police force has turned into"  
"The police can't see what's right in front of their noses!"  
"The NYPD are training Murders!"  
"You've let your wife down!"  
This comment hit Mac hard, it was a low blow. He hoped that wherever she was, she knew that this was a set up. He sometimes caught himself looking up at the sky, hoping that she could see him, hoping that she was watching over him. This wasn't his idea of being kept safe. Maybe she wasn't anywhere, perhaps she had just gone.

The shouts kept tormenting him; they were trying to get him to retaliate, trying to get him to lash out. They wanted to see first hand how dangerous this suspect was and how they could go home and tell their families about their close encounter with what was perceived to be one of the most dangerous men in the whole of America. Or at least that was the way that McKenna Taylor Junior had been painted in the press, hours after his initial arrest. Since then they had dug up every single trace of dirt they could on him. Somehow they had failed to mention his good fortunes, his acheivements, the involvement he had with the Brooklyn wall of remembrance, his rank in the marines, all the criminals he had brought down in all the years he'd been on the NYPD.

When he failed his maths paper in 5th grade – A troubled child, when he had locked up the wrong person in the past – Deliberately causing a miscarriage of justice, the Clay Dobson case – A murderer, and anything that they could lay their grubby little hands on was included in their tornado of libel and slander.

Mac hadn't been there 3 minutes before photographers and News cameramen and reporters were there.

"Feel proud of yourself now, Detective Taylor? That Missing girl is still missing! She'll never be found thanks to YOU!"  
"Who gave you the right to play god?"  
"Why aren't you man enough to admit what you did?"  
"Are you expecting a 'get out of jail free card?'"  
Mac gritted his teeth, this was no game, the allegations against him were serious, and these morons were comparing this situation to a board game!

With a deep breath Mac calmed himself and thought of the most peaceful thing he could, he thought of still water, of flowers, and although it shocked him he though of Jo. He chuckled at himself slightly, 'Jo and peaceful in the same sentence, who are you trying to fool?' But he was thinking of her sleeping, of her in his arms while watching a chick flick, of her in his coat, Mac had in fact had seen her peaceful side, a side of her that she didn't broadcast to the world.

Mac did his best to push past them; he didn't want to have a throwing fists competition in the middle of this mess to complicate things further. He didn't want to give the media more ammunition to hate him. If anything, he would later need the media on his side. Now however that was the most unlikely thing to happen. He wanted to keep his head down and stay alive. He was in survival mode. Fight or flight. Mac was not a coward; it went against his entire being to take the flight human instinct option of the two. In his head he was already calculating how he could take out each and every one of the threats efficiently and effectively. More men came up to him in a threatening manner but he didn't think that they were stupid enough to try anything, they were being filmed and while he had been suspended of all duties, he was innocent until proven guilty by law. If anyone wanted to take a swing at him, they would face assaulting a law enforcement officer.

Mac was logical in his thinking, however some of these people were not, a stubbly guy in his late 20's tapped Mac on the shoulder and Mac turned, the attacker drew back his fist and swung with almighty force.

Mac smugly hid his smile, he had predicted just that and blocked accordingly, the man did not have a chance. But this point of course the media were going crazy, Mac had just disturbed a wasp's nest, they were all buzzing with excitement. Swarming around the altercation. Mac wondered if it would have been any different if he'd started this. _No, probably not._

The man Mac had defended himself from was cradling his arm and looking sorry for himself. Mac had not done anything to seriously injure the illogical man; he had just twisted it slightly. Mac had not done anything wrong but he knew that the last few moments would be twisted in the media; he would be portrayed as the assailant, praying on the weak. He hoped that with Reed's influence in the media, they could form an equally strong counter argument for the public, but that was only one paper. One paper against the world.

While the crowd and the media were focused on the drama queen, Mac slipped away and hid himself in the comfort of the Penny, a pub-like bar that he and the team often found themselves in after a particularly hard case.

As Mac walked in, his eyes were caught on the new flat screen TV that was mounted on the wall where a fireplace should have been, the chimney had been taken out but the decoration around the bottom remained. The bartender always argued that it gave the place character.

The TV was presenting the News, and of course 'Breaking News' 'Taylor Turns Violent again.' Quickly gaining sympathy for the thin stubbly man.

Mac sat at the bar,

"I don't want no trouble." The bartender's voice was laced heavily with a New York accent and the emotions were of pure betrayal, Mac was taken aback with the unwelcome sense he was overpowered by, he had been coming to the Old Penny for years. He even used to come here on the odd occasion with Claire. His loyalty had never faltered.

Mac swallowed his pride, and tried to accept the realistic terms that he couldn't expect anything else. He was still the prime suspect in a murder investigation – Hell he wasn't even the suspect any longer, he was being tried for the crime! Everyone was going to treat him in such a way.

He sat down at the bar; alone, and felt many disapproving glares fixate upon him. The media, the news, and Sinclair had all indoctrinated the public. They all now truly and whole-heartedly believed that he was a deadly monster. Mac wasn't the monster; he was the prey of their entertainment. He ordered a whiskey, it was a little early to drink but in all honesty he had no idea how he had come this far without turning to alcohol. He suspected without Jo being around, he would have gone straight for the bottle after his initial appearance. Prison would have no alcoholic beverages and so, for now, he did not see the harm. He just hoped that the media did not find him here and start reporting that he was an alcoholic, drowning his sorrows. This was not the image he wanted for himself.

The bartender felt slightly sorry for a man he barely knew, but saw on a regular basis. What if Mac was innocent like he claimed? He finished drying a glass and neatly put it away under the bar, glancing up again just to watch Mac toying with his untouched drink.

A tall woman walked in and sat down on the bar stool next to Mac. She had green eyes, olive skin and red hair. Breanna. The very witness Mac was forbidden to see.

What was she doing here? He wasn't allowed within 50 feet of her. A million things began to circle in his head, if jail time was unavoidable; he wanted to know why he would be there. He was angry – No, angry was an understatement. Firing lightning rampaged through his veins, rage exploded in his head, a swelling storm of darkness clouded over his heart until every ounce of his good being was eliminated. Roaring outbursts of madness hammered at his defensive mechanisms, ordering him to retaliate to the injustice of the accusation.

He felt betrayed; he had done nothing but good for his country, for New York City. It didn't seem to matter; it carried no trace at all to the reason behind this monstrosity. This perjurer didn't care that he was a kind hearted man from Chicago, she didn't care that he had reached the ranks of sergeant major in the Marines, or that he was a well respected man through other capacities. And she certainly didn't care that he didn't commit the crime of which she was framing him for.

Mac slammed his glass back down on the bar, having not really wanted it. A splash cascaded over the edge and splattered on the varnished surface. Mac did not want to breach his bail conditions, he wanted his freedom, and he wanted Sid to have the bail agreement of $1 Million returned.

He nodded at the barman "If you'll excuse me." He said, standing up sliding he glass back slightly.

He looked over at the woman, having no consolation of whom she was; he smiled and simply replied with "Take care."

This woman was impossible; she had tracked him down, and found him here. There was no way this was a coincidence. In Mac's world it wasn't often that coincidences occurred, everything was and always will be connected.

As Mac took a step away from the bar, he felt taps on his shoulder. He shrugged her off.

"Wait." She said, "Don't you want to know?"

Mac's heart stopped. Of course he wanted to know. No question.

Mac, still with his back to her, moved his head to see her motive. Was she also a victim in this? Or was she playing on his emotions for kicks? Mac couldn't describe the feeling in which he felt. She looked innocent, she sounded innocent, but she was a good liar and convincing in court. She was deceitful and he didn't trust her.

"It's time justice is served." She said finally when not receiving the reaction that she was looking for. She was bitter, her words curt and cruel.

Mac still had no idea what was going on, but what he did know was that Breanna Martin had already broken the law. Mac saw it in her eyes, she knew Mac was innocent; she shouldn't have lied in court, and one day he felt sure that she would regret that she had.

It took all the strength he had not to respond, in fact he was surprised with the level of self-control he seemed to have. Maybe he still felt he had a lot to lose. All he knew was that this was far from over.

• • •

It wasn't long before Mac made his way to find Jo, already at his apartment, watching the news.

"I-I Didn't" Mac begun, startling her a little, nodding at the TV with a bystander explaining the rage she saw in Mac's eyes during the 'fight'.

"I know." Jo sweetly smiled sweetly at him, doing her best not to show the pain she felt in her own chest. He wasn't the only one being effected by this nightmare, it was killing her too. Mac hung up his coat and joined Jo in the kitchen, who had somehow found enough to make a couple of tuna sandwiches.

"I had tuna?" Mac asked, slightly confused.

"Tinned, yes."

"Did you check the date?"

She looked sarcastically at him, tilting her head. "No, I thought that I'd poison you before…"

She trailed off, still not wanting to admit the reality, so Mac continued. "Before I get locked up." He smiled. "You know, it's not a bad escape plan. I get ill and you can bust me out while they treatin' me in hospital," They both laughed, making light of what situation they were faced with, what seemed like together, helping one another though the tough times.

Mac expressed the wish to go and visit the memorial of Claire that he and Reed had put together after they found each other. Jo thought that she was supposed to feel a certain way about Claire, but in truth she felt nothing but sympathy for Mac. She assumed she was supposed to feel as if whoever ended up with him was almost like a second choice. Instead she wanted to take away his pain. Because she knew that to this day, it still affected him. She knew that he had changed the day she died. When she died, a part of him died too. A saddening truth that would never fade. If Mac ever found anybody else, they wouldn't be a replacement, they would be apart of the healing process.

Mac held out his waterproof coat for her to wear and found a not so waterproof one of his own, although it wasn't far from Mac's apartment, they got a cab to Rector Park where stood a marble memorial for Claire.

As they went past the site where the word trade centre used to be Mac took a deep, sharp breath, seeing how the renovations for a new building were now underway, made him hurt a little more inside. In some ways he was glad that people were moving on, the area would no longer be a gravesite of the many people that were lost that day. But he'd never found any trace of Claire and renovating the area made it seem as if the rest of the world were giving up.

He had wanted the memorial to be close by; when it wasn't raining he would often walk or jog the short distance. Mac wasn't sure what Jo thought about all this. He guessed that she knew he just had to say goodbye.

Mac in fact had been to this memorial every week since he and Reed put it in the park. He knew that he had to let go; he had tried on many occasions but he never seemed to be able to fully move on. Now there didn't appear that he had any choice in the matter. Claire was just going to be pushed further out if his reach.

That was why he was thankful he had Jo who stood next to him under the trees in the shelter of the dark cloud above and the heavy rain that descended to the earthy ground. Jo decided to morn with Mac, not for Claire in particular but for all the people that died on that tragic day. She clutched hold of Mac's arm.

"We will never forget." she whispered.

"I never told anyone this before," Mac said out loud, at first Jo wasn't sure whether he was talking to her or Claire. Mac twisted to face Jo slightly. "When I got shot, I saw Claire."

Jo realised that her death must have come crashing back to him. He'd been suddenly faced with the one person that he would leave this world for. With Mac's other hand, he rubbed Jo's arm to get her attention.

His touch sent impulsive tingles throughout her body, she desired him, she lusted for him, she needed him.

Her eyes met his caring gaze. Of course he would have seen Claire while he was hanging on for dear life.

"I saw the team, I saw you."

Jo smiled, but she didn't want to think of almost loosing him. It was too painful, she'd rather think that he was still there with them. It had taken almost losing him to realising how unconditionally in love she was.

"I didn't see Christine."

Jo didn't particularly want to think of her either, not after the way she treated Mac. She just didn't know how lucky she was to be with him. "I didn't think about her at all during the time I was under."

"Mac, why are we talking about this now?"

Mac ignored her question and reached his hand down to hers. "I told Claire that I met someone..." Mac paused, searching for any reasons for him to stop. He didn't want to push Jo away if he were being untoward in any way. "I wasn't talking about Christine." Mac brushed a stray, damp strand of Jo's fringe out of her face. "I was thinking of you."

Jo's teary eyes now meant something completely different. She had no idea that an event could take such a turn.

"Wh-what did she say?" Jo asked nervously, not wanting her short lived happiness to be swept out from under her before she had chance to enjoy it.

"She told me, she liked you." Mac said as a matter of fact.

Mac pulled Jo closer to him. I wanted to bring you here to see if it felt right. "I'm so so sorry I didn't realize until now." he cupped her face in his hands. "I held on for you." Faintly he heard the desperate words of his dream. _I need you to hold on, Mac._

Jo was a little stunned. He felt the same way too! Mac moved his hands from her face and slid them around her waist, pulling her in.

Mac leant down tenderly, brushing his lips over her. Jo's breath hitched as she could feel his presence. She couldn't help but smile.

Jo's heart thudded so fast she thought it could explode, sparklers danced through her soul. She was in a complete state of happiness. As Mac's lips collided with hers in unison, he felt the pace of his heart quicken. He had finally let the walls around his heart down, and Jo was there for him.

Mac held the keys to Jo's heart from the first moment they met; in some ways it was perfect. She was on a balcony in the lab, and he walk in with a strong look of determination on his face, ready to face the day. She had been taken in and captivated from the very first time she saw him and she almost forgot to speak. "Hi" Was the first thing that came to mind. "I'm Jo… Danville." She cursed herself for not appearing more professional. "I'm your new crime scene investigator…" Then everything comes crashing back to reality. "And this young woman is dead."

She was instantly attracted to him, as he was her. That did not mean that they had fallen in love a first sight. Jo remembered the look of confusion fall on his face as she stood over the pale young woman. When they had their first conversation she'd gone all Sherlock Holmes on him, trying to make up for her delayed speech earlier. All she wanted was to impress him, but soon she dropped the attitude, she didn't want to come across, as miss know it all.

It was a beautiful twilight as the sun spread pinks and purples into the clouded sky, it was perfect because both Mac and Jo had Claire's blessing and Jo had the chance to help heal Mac's wounds. Mac ever so slowly slide his hand to where the necklace was kept in the pocket of his coat that she was wearing.

A magnetic energy drew the two together, not just in body and mind, but in soul. A fluttery dance of flirtatious comments and smiles dived in unison into one true feeling. Love.

Jo was able to make Mac forget about the prison sentence looming over him. She was his shred of peace, his inner harmony.

A man coughed, "McKenna Taylor. We're not interrupting anything are we?"

_Not again._ Mac groaned to himself, but he knew full well why a detective would be looking for him. Breanna Martin, that was what this was about. And his series of unfortunate encounters with trouble – Trouble that he couldn't get in with Jo gone.

"Yes." Mac growled, frustrated. "Actually you are, come back in ten minutes."

Jo stepped back and looked at Mac with wonder. Never before had she heard Mac rebel about something this important. But then she'd never been involved with a situation quite like this one.

The next thing she knew Don appeared, completely oblivious to what had happened with Mac and Jo prior to his arrival.

"You know that can't be done." The first detective continued and begun to walk towards the couple.

"No handcuffs." Jo pleaded with him.

"Sorry love, rules are rules." And with the last word he harshly pulled Mac away from her.

"Left pocket," he told her and before she could respond he was what seemed miles away, being helped into a police marked car. She stood stunned, was he being arrested? _Again?_ she fumbled with the zip of the waterproof, and found the rectangle box. She now knew where Mac's hand had been heading. Quickly she snapped the lid open. She gasped with joy, but then almost as quickly as she opened the mystery box, she snapped her own head up to watch Mac be driven away from her. Clouds circled above the city, threatening rain once again. With every cloud came a silver lining. Thunder roared overhead and shortly after the rain became heavier and the large droplets thrashed to the ground. Her Silver was the necklace, but the admission of their passion between each other had been worth more than any amount money could buy.

Mac never did break his word.

Jo lifted her new necklace out from the box; she suspected that she would never take it off. Her other necklaces where quickly disregarded and replaced with her new treasure. She loved it, and yet those words didn't seem to cover it. She adored both Mac and her gift, more than words could express.

Jo frantically ran to the edge of the park. She had hoped that she might be able to get a ride with Flack who was still there, but he was looking far too serious. 'Why were they taking Mac in _now_?' thoughts ran through her mind, not wanting to expect the worst. A mixture of the rain and her own tears did a superb job of destroying her make-up.

Jo clutched to the coat in an attempt to stay warmer and drier but she only inhaled the sweet scent of Mac that was imbedded in his jacket.

Jo's eyes were enraged with determination. Frenzied, she was a woman on a mission. She stepped out into the road, causing a car to swerve around her. She distantly heard the shouting's of a man and the sharp sound of an angry horn, but she didn't pay attention. Ordinarily, she might have apologized but not today. There was only one thing that concerned her. Mac.

She hailed a cab and demanded to be taken to 12th precinct. The evening's duration had been like a dream. Every thing she thought a kiss from Mac would feel like was everything she had dreamt of and so much more. Their connection went deeper than she'd ever imagined. Him being taken away was like ripping her in two. There was nothing that she could do about it. They weren't the 'Bad Guys,' they were on the same team. It wasn't a case of pulling out her weapon and firing these people to oblivion. They weren't the people responsible for this. Jo however, did intend to find the people who were.

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**Author Note:  
**

**Well I hope you all enjoyed that. My bad that it wasn't uploaded quicker... I hope I made up with this chapter.. Let me know (:  
**

**I Hope everyone had a superb summer (:  
**


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve – Breach Of Bail_

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Jo walked up the familiar steps of the 12th precinct. Nothing had changed, yet it seemed foreign. It was part of an everyday journey, but now it seemed a once in a lifetime experience. Perhaps everything had changed.

She toyed with her necklace on her neck, building up the courage to finding out what was really going on. She dreaded the idea that the police had found some more conclusive evidence that warranted him being pulled in like this. She knew, from the bottom of her heart, that Mac didn't commit the awful crime he was being wrongly charged with. Nobody can lie with their eyes.

A media circus had gathered outside the precinct, reporters began to badger her with questions. "What do you think of your boss now that this information has come to light?" "Something in the air, your work colleagues breaking the law, that's one hell of a coincidence." "How is the NYPD coping with the loss of Detective Taylor?"

Jo knew that they were talking to her, but she didn't hear them. She wanted to hide; they were like a pack of wolves, relentless.

For the first time in her life, she wondered what people would think. Would it matter what people thought?

If only the media knew the earlier events of the evening, then there'd be a huge mess, they would target her. Head of the crime lab or not, she'd be seen in a different light. People would highlight her colourful past. Ellie would be dragged into the whirlwind tornado of a reporting frenzy that surrounded this case, people may not be so understanding at school, was that a price she was able to pay? Ellie liked Mac, she knew that the charge was outrages, was Ellie as strong as her mother always said?

Mac was the only man she truly adored. She had never felt this way about anyone, but then she hadn't ever kissed anyone that faced a murder charge, until now. She hoped that their short burst of passion wasn't a result of some inner emotional confusion. The park they'd visited was a sacred place to Mac. She hoped, with all her heart, soul and every other part of her being, that this was real. It was real to her.

• • •

Danny glanced at Lindsay; they were underneath the shelter of a coffee shop's awning, waiting out the worst of the rain before they dived across the road back to the precinct, having taken a break from interviewing a suspect from a new case. A case without Mac at the helm seemed surreal. They all missed his company.

They looked across at Jo who let the rain fall onto her. She didn't care, and she slowly made her way to the heavy doors, to warmth and shelter.

"She cares for him." Lindsay said to her husband with a hint of sadness.

"We all do." Danny agreed, though he knew that was not what his wife meant.

"I want to help, do something. We can't just sit back and do nothing." Lindsay looked determined to think of something. She didn't want to give up on a friend who had helped both her and Danny through tough times.

"Lindsay there is nothing we can do, if there was Mac would have let us know, right?"

Lindsay nodded slowly, not convinced. He had no real means of communicating with them, how would he let them know? Somewhere in the back of her mind she disagreed, there simply had to be something that could be done.

"Y'know what Mac would tell us to do?" Danny said, with the shadow of a mischievous grin playing on his face. "C'mon guys, focus. The city is relying on you." Danny mimicked Mac, and Lindsay laughed at his interpretation. "Or summin like that anyways."

"We should focus on getting him out of this. He would do the same for each and everyone of us."

"Lindsay, I'm not saying we shouldn't. But nothing is definite yet; Mac doesn't need us poking our noses in, disrupting the evidence, making it harder for his attorney. He needs his team to do their jobs."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Lindsay?"

"What if I don't wanna do it without Mac. Hell, it was hard enough when Stella left. Y'know I read about this thi-" _ng, called Project Innocence._

"Lindsay, lets not get ahead of our selves here." He interrupted, holding her arms by her sides and running his hands down them in an attempt to calm her. "I'll talk to Flack, see what we can do."

She buried her head in his chest at the sound of him compromise. She hoped that the team could do something; it certainly couldn't be a good thing to watch Mac get dragged into the police station while on bail.

Danny pulled her closer and rocked her from side to side in his arms; she had no idea what she would do if Danny were taken away from her. She knew that Jo had strong feelings for Mac. It was a silent knowledge, the way a woman just knows some things sometimes. Her intuition told her that Jo had liked Mac for close to two years. But with the whole Christine disaster, she wasn't sure if the feeling was equally mutual. Lindsay didn't see what Mac saw in someone like Christine. But then who was she to say what men did and didn't like? She suspected that he was somehow still trying his best to keep the past from slipping away from him. Christine was someone from his past, someone that knew Claire. They had both shared grievances and somehow they found love in amongst all the pain and suffering. That was the only thing they really shared, pain.

• • •

Mac had done battle with his handcuffs again, something of which he had never contemplated that he would have to get used to. He wondered what Jo must have thought of all this, seeing as she had not been given any form of an explanation.

Stunned, he literally could not believe his actions and how bold he'd been. He figured he had to do something; he was never very good with finding the right words to express his feelings in situations like that. It felt right at the time.

However, he wasn't sure whether it was the right thing to have done. He'd given in to his emotions, let his guard down and now he felt as if he had tricked her into staying by his side. That wasn't his intention, but now he suspected she felt as if she had no choice. He didn't want to put any strain on her or Ellie. He felt like he had somehow manipulated those closest to him, though he knew deep down that if he had, it was unintentional. Not that this thought offered him any comfort at all.

Mac simply did not like this balancing game. He had to figure out what was best for Jo, Ellie, and somehow resist the lust and desire that he felt for Jo. Every time his eyes met with hers, his heart melted. Whenever he set his gaze on her, he was temporarily incapacitated and unable to move. In her presence he could feel a hot burst of energy shoot throughout his body and uncontrollable flickers in his heartbeat as it began to race.

He hadn't actually had a chance to talk to anyone currently involved in the case or any of his team. He felt like an outsider of his own case, not having committed a crime but being punished anyway. He knew that his method of operation in regarding running the lab was never as bad as this; he always consciously exhausted every lead and kept people involved in the loop. Especially the suspect and their lawyer once the case had been finalised and reports had been sent to the DA. The way in which he was being treated was plain and simple disrespectful.

Looking down, Mac stared at the steal bracelets around his wrists in front of him. They were heavy and cold, physically and emotionally straining him. He had been handcuffed before, retrained with zip ties and other ways incapacitated, but never through a legal process usually he had to fight he way to freedom physically, now he had to sit and wait in anticipation.

Besides Mac stood two police officers, proud of their catch. Triumphantly looking around the entrance they boasted about their prize. After many law enforcement workers and other bystanders had had a gander, they began to march Mac to booking. Though many officers just turned and whispered, as they had no clue as to what the head of the NYPD was doing there in handcuffs again. The media had obviously told them as to why he was there initially, and how outraged they were that he was able to make bail. But it was too early. Mac was to be seen by judge Wilcox tomorrow morning in trail. This was top of office gossip; Mac could feel his ears burning with the hushes of the people talking about him.

Mac shut the world out; he closed his eyes and looked down, hanging his head in shame. Embarrassed that he was again, on show for the whole world to see. There were two outcomes after the trail, he would either be spending the rest of his useful life behind bars, or he would be allowed his freedom. There was no middle ground, no compromise, nothing to fall back on. Mac would not accept a plea bargain with the DA, he would not trade his innocence for anything. It was all he had left, faith in the New York State justice system.

However, whatever the end result, his life had changed for good. The media had done their worst and the damage was done. Perhaps they could reverse it, broadcast his successes and triumphs to counter all the evil. But nobody wants to read a happy story, happy stories do not sell news, and therefore not many papers would be interested any further in the case, leaving Mac a washout. He could not imagine living anywhere other than New York, New York was his home, where the only people he considered family lived. His job was here, but that seemed to be a lost cause now.

For a long time to come Mac would be known as the god awful catchphrase the media had come up with, 'The Killer Cop'. Mac couldn't help but think that he could have come up with better ones, and that some people in the media business needed a drastic career change. He didn't even want the media chasing his story but 'Deadly Detective,' 'Mad McKenna Taylor' and 'Head Criminal of the NYPD' all had a better ring to them. He shook his head in annoyance, feeling, and thinking like a criminal.

Flack appeared out of nowhere, a small habit of his. He reached out and tapped the officer on the shoulder, telling them to stick it by politely whispering, "I got this." The look of accomplishment drained from their faces, apparently they enjoyed the power over a now powerless man. Fortunately, Don was their superior and they were obligated to do as told. They stepped aside and walked back in the direction from which they had come, grumbling as they went.

The area of the corridor there were in was at a 'T' junction, and Flack checked his bases before pulling Mac into an isolated interview room. He had been looking for a certain Captain Kevin Roy, but he was nowhere to been seen and so the coast was clear. Flack locked the door and took the handcuffs of in a flash. He held them in his hands for a second and then threw them, as hard as he could, in a rage across the floor. If he hadn't have done, Mac might have, although it didn't appear to solve anything.

"Better?" Mac asked gruffly.

"No."

Flack slumped to sit on the table, while Mac began pacing the length of the room. They were in a dead silence except for the constant rhythm of Mac's footsteps.

"Mac, buddy, do you even know why you're here?" Flack asked, causing Mac's footstep rhythm to subside.

"Let me guess," Mac mumbled, though he wasn't about to take a guess, what he replied with he was almost certain to be the truth. "Breanna Martin is convinced I broke bail conditions?"

"So you _did_ go and see her, didn't you?" Flack asked, not surprised, because having been in Mac's position, he would have. But if he'd been in Mac's position he suspected there would be a new charge brought to the table, he would have strangled the bitch.

Mac was silent, as though he was precisely calculating exactly how he wanted word what was on the tip of his tongue.

Flack thought he was stalling, waiting for someone to kick down the door and pull him out of trouble.

"Spit it out Mac! It's a simple question, did or didn't you see Breanna Martin earlier today at..." he pulled out his note pad and glanced over his scribbles, "the Old Penny?" a sudden realisation temporarily pulled his facial features back as he raised his eyebrows. He knew that bar, he knew that if Mac would have gone anywhere for a drink, it would have been there.

"Please tell me you didn't do anything stupid." Flack said, putting his head in his hands and leaving it there.

"I didn't go looking for her."

"She just happened to be there?"

"No, I was there first."

"So, what…" Flack asked, "She followed you?" He has not entirely convinced with his theory.

"Yes." Mac said after some deliberation, and coming up with no other reasonable explanation, "She must have."

"You know how crazy you sound right now, right?"

Mac breathed a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and putting the other in the warmth of his pocket. He closed his eyes, attempting to clear his mind, searching any other possibility. But her words echoed in his mind 'don't you want to know?' 'It's time justice is served'

It wasn't a coincidence, she had known he'd be there; she knew what she was doing. However, there was no point in pretending otherwise, it did sound crazy. A witness, as a general rule, did not seek out the defendant in a normal case.

Mac sat on the chair, if he'd sat in this chair once; he'd probably sat in it a hundred times. Although he was now on the law-abiding side of the interrogation table, he was still on the wrong side of the badge.

"Why don't you tell me what you know, start from the top. Fresh ears." Flack pointed at his ears, trying to help, but being his usual self. Something of which Mac appreciated. He didn't want people to act differently around him. He was the same person he'd always been; he hadn't changed. Except the corruption of many of the 12th division's police law enforcement employee's had been brought to his attention. And upon getting out of this mess, it would be one of the first issues he dealt with.

"Adam and I went to the firing rage." As he spoke, his mind flashed back to a time before the nightmare. If he knew then what he knew now he wouldn't have gone to the firing range, he would have gone straight home. He wouldn't have gone for a jog. He would have secured his gun more effectively. There was so much that he wished he could change.

"I fired a few rounds into a target, got GSR on my shirt, left around ten-forty-five. Had a shower, went to bed. I woke up around 2-ish, went for a run, was gone, an hour or so when I went home I flicked on the news channel and before I knew it I was being called into work."

Flack nodded, he didn't question what he was being told. He knew that what Mac told him was 100% the truth.

"Look out." Mac murmured and nodded his head in the direction of the glass panel in the door where stood a very angry looking Captain Roy. His hands were on his hips, his brow furrowed and his narrowing eyes glared at Flack. If looks could kill, Flack would be in trouble.

Flack looked at his boss calmly, and then back to Mac. He supposed that it would be a perfect time to see how good the locks really were.

"DONALD FLACK!" The Captain boomed "Open this door right now!" The Captain was purple with rage, screaming at the top of his lungs. The volume in the interview room was considerably quieter.

"Can you explain any of the other evidence?" Flack asked, ignoring the orders from his increasingly worked up boss.

Mac helplessly looked at his dear friend. He honestly had no idea what to say or do. He couldn't explain the evidence; he certainly didn't put it there! Flack had risked a lot for a chance to talk to him, and time was running out.

Apparently the locks held just fine. Captain Roy had someone find him a set of the master keys to finally open the interrogation room. A crew of about five well-built NYPD officers stormed in, wearing full protection gear, armed with tasers. Mac didn't resist, he had nothing to gain by being a royal pain in the arse and being tazored wasn't the most pleasant experience he'd ever had. The time wasn't right to share his thoughts, whether or not he ever escaped this situation, he would make their lives uncomfortable. Mac knew people, who knew people, he could dig up the areas of Captain Roy's life that he would not like publicised. For all the good he had done, Mac did not deserve to be treated this way. He knew it, Flack knew it, and the Captain knew it.

Flack was being yelled at, Mac wasn't sure that he'd keep his job after that stunt. He had helped accomplish everything that they had dreaded. They didn't want the media on their backs, telling the world that they sympathised with a killer, sympathised with one of their own. That was the way it would be broadcast, and they wanted to pretend that everything they did, they did for the welfare of the public, they wanted to pretend that they brought no personal agenda to the table when dealing with crimes.

Some of the police genuinely were fair minded, but until now, both Mac and Flack had been naïve as to the depths of the corruption.

Mac was taken away before he heard the outcome of the somewhat unnecessary shouting; he had no idea what disciplinary action would follow. Detective Don Flack was a good cop; he didn't deserve to be disrespected in such away. He was doing what was right, a trait that all police officers should have.

• • •

Mac looked around the cell, although it wasn't the exact location that he'd been in before, it was the same grim, thick smell that made him want to hurl. There were the same noises of rowdy drunken teenagers yelling at the top of their lungs. This time however it was much louder. As Mac had been brought in unexpectedly, he wasn't granted the same luxuries as before, even if they were for safety purposes. In all honesty Mac suspected that the guards wanted him to be in danger and in harms way. They wanted him to pay for the unlawful killing of a child abuser, simply because it was not within his rights to make such a decision and take a life.

Until now, Mac had been on his own wing of cells, isolated from the rest of the criminal population, something of which Mac had been grateful for. However due to some failed escape attempt at the 24th precinct the holding facilities had flooded and many of the incarcerated were transferred to the next best place in the close proximity. The 12th Precinct was on the brink of maximum capacity, and so the special treatment that Mac had, had consequently been stripped from him. Now he was just another regular criminal in a cell. The CEO opened the door, making the metal clang together, only just heard over the racket of the drunken rants. The man that entered was not a threat, and so far this was Mac's only cellmate. The thin frame was shaking in his boots; a place like this was not for the faint hearted. He looked so nerves that he might add to the stench of vomit, and splatter some more around the cell. Mac, at this point was telling himself that he'd seen and smelt much worse, however even to him, it was disgusting and vile.

From this Mac deduced that the man had never been arrested before, and only been put in here because he'd refused to cooperate. It was a tactic that many of the police force has resorted to, give a man a taste of prison when he is threatening to obstruct the course of justice, after one night, they were likely to get the results they wanted. He wore large, heavy metal frames, but only looked about the age of thirty-five. He was a neat chap, and looked like he had a well-paid job with the clothes he wore. Like Mac, he looked like the last sort of person you would be likely to see in a prison cell.

Apparently the stereotypical profile of a criminal was inaccurate, both seemed unsuited to the reality of a situation such as this, both belonged else where, and yet the two men were there because they were suspected criminals.

Just by the mirrored look on the man's face, Mac could distinguish the look of innocence. He too had been wrongfully accused.

Mac had been, for years, defending the NYPD, telling reporters and journalists that the police did a good job, protecting and serving the city. Now however the truth was unravelling fast, how could the police's judgement be so wrong, _twice?_

The policing department needed work, and now Mac was now in deep regret of not taking a stand earlier. He had ignored all the slip-ups and mistakes from his subordinate officers, making excuses for them when the media came for them. Now it seems that they have no problem in throwing the very person that defended them to the wolves.

Mac smiled at the man clutching hold of his stomach in an attempt to make the urges to vomit subside. He too realised that Mac was not a threat, and this encouraged him to speak.

"H-Hello" He mumbled to the floor, though he was addressing Mac.

Mac knew that he was only being polite, but at the same time he wasn't in the mood for a conversation. He didn't want to be here, and the stone walls began to be a familiar sight.

Mac murmured some from of greeting while Jo came to the forefront of his mind, he wanted her warmth perfectly moulding into his arms. It was certain that he wouldn't spend a night with her before the trial, and who knew what the outcome would entail. She would just have to wait for him on the other side. He knew that whatever the result, his life would have changed forever.

Mac thought back to the case of young Mollie granger. The 72-hour time limit had long since expired and now she had less than 15% chance of survival. The police were not focused on that case, they were transfixed on the idea of a dirty cop at the expense of toying with a little girl's life. When in fact they were grossly mistaken, he was thinking about her more than they were.

Mac looked sheepishly across to the bench, this one looked worse than the one previously. He involuntarily shivered, as if someone was walking over his grave, and forced himself to lie across on the bench. He tried to do so without thinking about it.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to get some sleep, but realistically it was impossible. Who, of sane mind, could sleep in such circumstances? His mind was ticking at a high speed, making his head burn. His thoughts would not subside into something peaceful.  
Instead he found himself torturing himself, imaging scenarios where he was the shooter. A scenario when he'd pulled the trigger, a gun pointing at the evil bastard that had snatched the young girl from her family.  
He wondered what evidence he would have left behind, what the real killer would have left behind, something that could have been missed, something that could still be retrievable. He was unable to come up with ant solutions. Every time his mind went in a full circle, he was dragged further into his hole of desperation.

Mac had once dealt with a case where a guy confessed to the murder of his brother in law, the team managed to prove him innocent. Apparently if you tell yourself something enough times, you'll end up truly believing in it. This territory in his psychological well-being was a minefield, he was anticipating something to explode when a foot went out of line. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the FAB cell. He tried to separate reality from the fictitious lies. He would not be caught in such a trap. Now he had reason to want a life on the outside. Jo.

Mac was aware of the man shuffling around the cell. He sobbed a little and heavily sat on the adjoining bench.

"Pssst"

Mac glanced towards the man interrupting his thoughts,

"What are you in for?" The man asked, trying to cover his bases, making sure of his own safety and wanting company in the loneliness of the cell.

Mac moved a little so his face aligned with the light, dimly illuminating the cell.

It was like this was the first time the brittle man really seemed to see Mac, and in utter shock he almost fell of his seat. With no hesitation he ran to the door and started frantically thumping his fist against the coolness of the metal.

He began screaming, telling the world that he was ready to talk.

Mac wasn't about to have any peace; even his own innocent cellmate took him for a killer.

* * *

**Author Note:  
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**Well, that was so much quicker than before... I am not promising the next will be as fast but I am really trying here guys (:  
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**I hope you liked it.. Sortof a gap filler this chapter..  
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**Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading (:  
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	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Acting Guilty

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• • •

Jo stood paralysed. What did this moron mean? She couldn't speak to Mac.

"Tell me where he is." she demanded again, not comprehending the fact that the police would deny her a visit.

She held up her badge,

"I am a detective." she began but was rudely interrupted by the official man in front of her.

"Ms Danville, you are not investigating the case." the sergeant reminded her coldly, knowing exactly who she was and what she was there for.

"I need to see him." Now, Jo was pleading. She looked to the ceiling as if someone would tell her what to do, change the words of this irritating problem that stood between her and what she wanted.

"What you need. Is to get out of here."

"No."

The man ticked a final checkbox on his clipboard, as if completely uninterested in Jo and the reasoning she was there. He didn't want to be cooperative. He nodded to some colleagues who drifted closer to the issue.

"Get out of my sight." He resorted to coldly. He felt superior to her; he knew something that she didn't. He had the upper hand.

Jo laughed in his face, "excuse me?" she out ranked him, being the boss of the crime lab. Realistically, following protocol, he couldn't stop her from doing exactly as she pleased. The fact of the matter was she didn't know where Mac was and information was being withheld from her.

Scowling, he looked away, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"Why is he here?" Jo angrily interrogated him again, feeling a burning sensation rise with her. She felt nothing but anger towards the incompetent rat.

"Useless" she murmured under her breath. "Fine, tell me where Detective Don Flack is."

"Detective Flack has been suspended." He said coolly, again feeling a rush of pleasure as he knew more than she. This unsettled Jo slightly, not just for what he was implying but the uncanny similarities between the law enforcement officer in front of her and a convicted felon, happily enjoying the overwhelming power he had over others.

"What?!" her world was falling apart around her. Everything she knew was collapsing. She swallowed, not sure whether to let out the scream edging it's way up her throat.

Someone once said, "Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength."

She wanted to go into a frenzied outburst, rather like a small child does when they do not get what they want. She wanted to do damage, enough for them to chuck her in a cell on the off chance she would see him. She knew this was absurd.

She did what she knew best.

Jo looked at him, he had pen on the sleeve of his cuff, he looked tired and irritated. Despite the coffee stain on his tie he was dressed smartly and his shirt had been ironed. He had a tan line of a wedding ring on his finger, but no ring. Every 20 seconds his eyes would divert to the desks behind, and when caught he would smile at a young detective. He held a lunch box in hands, the food untouched despite it was the end of shift. Jo had profiled him in a second.

"Tell me where he is, or I'll pay a visit to your wife and child, Sergeant Wilson, do you think they'd be interested to why you are taking that pretty young thing to dinner without your wedding band?" She glanced over to the woman who was looking at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. Jo had deduced that he had a young child at home as it would explain the pen and the tiredness. Jo knew the wife had ironed his shirt because he seemed naturally messy, he wouldn't have been likely to iron himself and it was odd to think that a man would make lunch for himself and then not eat it. He had not eaten it because he was planning to eat later with another woman.

The sergeant was speechless. How did she know? Hastily, he picked up a jotter pad and scribbled down the cell and wing Mac was being held. "Don't tell Sandra" He begged, "Or Holly…" And he looked over in the direction of the woman again.

Jo rolled her eyes and snatched the paper from him.

• • •

Her heart almost pounded right out of her chest. Mac had been put in a cell with some low life, weedy guy, thrashing at the door.

Mac lay across the bench, attempting to get some rest before judgment day.

Jo scrunched her nose up at the stench. Many people were here, adding to the lack of hygiene. She doubted anyone could sleep in this racket.

As Jo approached, the man stopped beating his hand to the metal. He however had the wrong end of the stick; he assumed Jo was there to get him out.

A guard had followed her and she nodded to the cell,

"Are you sure?" he asked not totally convinced that someone would willingly enter.

"Yes," at hearing her voice, Mac's head snapped up. For a brief moment he questioned his sanity, afraid that he'd already given in to the maddening surroundings.

"I would say holla if yah want me, but I'm not likely to hear. I'll be back in about half an hour."

Jo nodded, smiling that the man was willing to bend the rules. Mac was pulled to the barred doors like iron to a magnet. A force that could not been seen bound them close together.

"Hey chief." the man hit the metal with an open hand so hard that it appeared to rattle. "I can't stay in here."

The guard liked both Mac and Jo, for that had been the reason that he had been willing to honour them this kindness. He seemed to consider this. He opened the door and yanked the man out.

"I know just what I'm going to do with you."

He grabbed the man's arm and threw him in an already crowded cell. It wasn't long before he was screaming to go back.

He nodded to Jo, "Stay as long as you like, I've got you covered."

"Thank-you so much Johnny, I really appreciate this."

"No worries"

Mac also nodded a form of gratitude, but of course he'd rather he didn't have to be in a cell at all, especially considering he hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't committed the crime he was being tried for and he hadn't broken bail. To show an ounce of happiness in this place was damn near impossible.

Jo picked up her new accessory; the silver around her neck was the only necklace she had on.

"It's beautiful." she declared, slightly teary with a cocktail of emotions.

Mac felt his cheeks heat slightly, having found the perfect replacement for his clumsiness. In the shadows, she could see his smile.

The guard had now walked back down the corridor, his keys hanging from his belt rhythmically clashed together with every stride.

Jo moved closer to Mac, he followed her with his eyes, never ceasing to be amazed by her beauty. She put her hand on his cheek, using her fore finger to run the length of his jaw line. Jo was the only one that could bring love to a place like this. She was the silver lining to the blackening storm clouds suspended over his shoulders.

Doubts circled around, looming in the forefront of their minds. Mac, scared that he'd trapped Jo in a life with nothing but torment and accusations. Jo, scared that Mac's actions had been a confused reaction to the immense stress that suddenly he'd been submerged into. Both, petrified of rejection.

Mac brought his hands to Jo's face, he closed his eyes and leant forward to her. His lips slightly parted, anticipating her sweetness, but held back his eagerness, protecting his dignity if indeed his heart was about to take another battering.

Jo felt his hot breath on her skin, giving her goose bumps and making her crave him more.

Lightly, their foreheads rested on one another. Upon connection, instant smiles formed. Inch by inch the space between their lips decreased.

Even in the conditions of their surroundings, love could be found. All hope was not lost.

A short flicker of their hearts plunged head first into passion.

Their lips moulded to one another, exploring each other and ingraining it to their memories. This kiss had the potential to be the only thing keeping each other fighting in the future. The taste, the feel, the adrenaline, the quickening pace of their beating hearts, the small details colliding in unison to draw together the soul mates. Both fully aware of the importance of this moment.

Unexpected fireworks exploded throughout his veins, igniting the passion that pounded his swelling heart. The spark they'd always had, spontaneously burst into flame and danced to the rhythmic heartbeats between them. In the darkness, Jo's love was the light, guiding the way out of depression.

An electronic pulse sent trilling quivers up and down Jo's spine. A tremor of lust erupted in her soul. Aching desires from the core of her heart burst with perfection, her pulse flirting with critical. Butterflies entered into her stomach, fluttering joy and happiness.

• • •

Mac's trail was a priority. It had been rushed through the system to give the public piece of mind, however the result was truly shocking. If the public knew what was really happening, they would be even more outraged. That was truly how twisted the system was.

Jo had brought Mac another suit, in spite of the circumstances he intended to keep up appearances. If he could have, he would have worn his war medals from his days in the marines. Connotations that would have vented from these would be of success and triumph, of a sense of duty and honor. He instead of being labeled a felon; he would be a hero in the eyes of the jury. The medals were allowed no further than the metal detector. Because of the severity of the charge he was not allowed to take them into court. His small comfort was snatched away from him before the trail began. Because Mac had tried his luck with the metal objects, a deeper search was necessary at the metal detectors. A group of five guards dealt with Mac as a potential threat. It was an old trick, going though the metal detector with a metal object on display whilst concealing another, blaming the angry beeps of the machine on the obvious metal article and having only that confiscated.

They could put him on the floor in the blink of an eye. Mac knew what they would do; One would move directly in front of him, disrupting his view and blocking his first port of escape; From behind, another would tightly begin to squeeze the air from his lungs in a crushing motion, the guard would lunch forwards, tackling his waist and forcefully, and effectively shoving him to the ground. He would be yanked in such a position that he would be able to taste the dust balls in the floor, despite is injuries from 6 months ago, they would once again force his arms behind his back and Mac, the defendant, would be detained once again.

This scenario played over in Mac's head, like a dream. Whilst he was engaging in his imagination, it seemed frightfully real. As if he could taste the dust balls on his tongue, or feel the coolness on the metal glide onto his wrists, handcuffing him secure. A disturbance of an inhuman, emotionless, pain of ringing recalled Mac back into reality. It was the sound of haphazard metal keys, impatiently crashing together. These agitated motions belonged to a thin and wrinkled, CEO who looked weathered with experience and a day or so away from retirement. He however, was not tapping his feet and swinging his keys in an irritated manner on Mac's account, his disposition was on the account of some other future convict or re-offender.

Mac glanced at the many guards surrounding him again. As if he were a risk to society, as if he'd hurt anyone, they were glaring at him. One fibre of his being out of line and there would be consequences. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, he knew that in seconds he could get out of there. His eyes however betrayed him, it wasn't a matter of running away, any fool can run away from something they do not want to face, it takes courage to stare fear in the eyes and take it square on. The logic in Mac's mind was in civil dispute, while his primitive, Marine self, wanted to get out of there like his training had taught, his sceptical cop ego, told him to fight legally, to stay on the right side of the law.

The guards finished their search, and once satisfied that he didn't have any other metal objects on him, they bitterly put the cuffs back on, sneering insults about how the head of the New York Crime lab should have known better, and it was people like him that gave all owners of a Law Enforcement badge a bad name. Mac was hurt by their comments, but then if their roles had been reversed and he knew only what they had been told about the defendant, then he supposed he would feel no different. He too would hate the unlawful cop who shot an innocent, until proven otherwise, suspect, who had previously been cleared of all charges on a similar case.

It seemed strange that the media were willing to print that Gregory Williams was an innocent man as he had not been convicted of anything, but Mac on the other hand was being treated like a first class criminal.

• • •

Richard was already in place, sat comfortably on the defendant's side of the court. The DA was also there, at ease, carefully shuffling notes into an organised and methodical fashion. There were many court officials, court reporters, the court's clerk and the usher. Nobody was interested in any of these people; all glares were once again fixated on the one in handcuffs. Everybody in the courtroom was judge, jury and executioner; he could feel the hatred emanate from the majority of the people there. Like a wave of heat, he felt the anger on his skin. He wanted to stand up and walk out, but he had a battle to fight, and he wasn't going down easily.

Mac had a premonition, even before the trial started, he suspected that things weren't going to fall in his favour, somehow he knew that sooner or later his case would crash and burn to the ground and he would be looking at the four walls of a prison cell for the rest of his life.

Swallowing hard, Mac tried to dismiss these negative thoughts. He instead concentrated on positive thoughts. Though nothing case related came to mind, the same couldn't have been said for the dark haired woman sat in the gallery, the only one without an ounce of anger, disappointment, or bitterness about her; she was the only one smiling at him. Jo's lips tugged a promising smile of courage, of hope and of belief into Mac's darkness.

Mac faintly smiled back at her, trying to remain professional, after all it was in some regards his profession that had got him in this in the first place. He remembered vividly the last time he was in court; he was often an expert witness. It was a big case and the Boss was required to speak. Now, it unsettled him greatly, churning his stomach and making him dizzy. The DA, on that occasion, had won the case and the defendant seemed that it simply could not have been anyone else. That time the jury had found, that beyond reasonable doubt, he was guilty. In regards to the forensics, facts and figures at least, he was the perfect suspect. Now however, the only question that was protruding in Mac's mind was, "what if he were innocent?"

These thoughts were not helping, Mac could feel his palms begin to sweat and become sticky with nerves, and whilst he was successfully putting on a brave face for the world, there was no point in denying himself the truth.

Whilst being in a courtroom was very work orientated, Mac had always tried to draw a solid line between his personal life and his position at the crime lab. Once, in protests to Peyton, he had tried to explain this very fact. She had replied with "what personal life?" like the others, she had gone. Only her words were left, carved into his mind. When they were together he had vowed to change, and although he had tried, he had faced the same issue with Christine, and despite her protests that she'd get used to the obscene hours, the interrupted dates, the missed events and forgotten occasions, she too had eventually followed suit. He wondered if he was just incapable of loving someone more than the job. Now the many hours of late nights and unpaid over time he'd forced himself to endure seemed pointless and his failed romances had been just casualties along the way.

Mac had tried. That was what had hurt the most, whatever he did, there seemed to be something else to knock him down. More recently, he'd cut down on the late nights at the office; he was spending more time with Jo and the rest of the team outside of work. He'd even agreed to have drinks at the end of shift, though he had only done that on the one occasion since the shooting, and even then he was restricted alcohol wise with his medication, he'd had a good time. Every weekend he religiously went to a café in lower Manhattan to fireman Joe, a good friend of his, a.) Because the retired fireman didn't have anything better to do with his Saturday mornings and b.) Because he feared that with time catching up with his older friend, the pain from loosing his son was gradually getting worse. Loosing Claire that day was horrific, but Joe had lost his son, his own blood, a bond that Mac would never be able to experience, along with Claire, his chances of becoming a father and raising a family had collapsed in a heart beat. He regretted not having children to no end; it was a demon in his mind that he would never be able to dispel.

Just as Mac was about to sit down, a line of officials walked in. A voice boomed once again and echoed high into the ceiling,  
"Defendant, please rise." Mac felt like a jack in the box. He stood up and quickly brushed down his jacket, not in appreciation of the whole fiasco. He'd rather just be freed, he was innocent, and there was absolutely no need in his mind, for this monstrosity.

"For the records, please state your name to the court."

"McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior" A lady walked up to him with a bible and swore him in under oath.

Mac thought back to the middle of last week, where he deemed nothing of importance had occurred, he wondered if the killer had already planned every detail, or if they were just waiting for an opportunity. He willed to go back to then, before the nightmare, where he was as free as a bird.

Somewhere in the back of Mac's mind was feeling cocky 'Don't they know who I am?' he deluded himself, subconsciously believing that this was just part of a case and everything would soon all go back to the way they should be.

The dry tone from the court clerk brought him back to the courtroom.

"The charges challenging you today are as follows: On the first count, the murder of Gregory Williams in the first degree on July twelfth twenty-twelve. Section one: the unlawful killing of one human by another, with malice intent. The second count, assaulting a law enforcement officer; the attempts to cause or purposely, knowingly or recklessly cause bodily injury to a Law Enforcement Employee, whilst in full understanding of their identity and intention."

"Do you understand these charges?" The court clerk rhythmically echoed, as though accustom to the flow of words on his tongue, quite content with the lingo of the legal vocabulary.

"Yes, I understand." Mac stood tall and fixated his stare to the small man now talking to the courtroom. Mac's lips had parted and it was the sound of his voice that had spoken, but Mac's soul was absent from the words, it was as if someone else was controlling his speech. Mac's true desires were to scream and shout from the top of his lungs and bottom of his heart. He wanted the answer, the truth to come to him out of thin air, when nothing came; the idea began to torment him. Excruciating pain crawled through his heart, having already broken down the walls of defence that he had relentlessly fought to keep up. A burning sensation coursed through him, his veins exploding with fire.

A tear formed in the corner of his left eye, it did not trickle or roll. That would have been a sign of weakness, not something he wanted to share with these strangers. It however symbolised that he was in fact human, he had feelings and heartfelt emotions. This was the begging of the end, the last battle there was to face in the war was commencing, the hammer would soon fall and Mac's fait would be decided and there was nothing he could do about it.

"And how do you plea, Mr. Taylor, guilty or not guilty? Count one, The murder of Gregory Williams - Murder in the first degree."

Mac at this point spoke confidently and clearly. "Not Guilty."

"Count two. Assaulting a law enforcement officer, guilty or not guilty?"

Mac took in a sharp inhale of breath, whatever he said now would be damaging to his case. If he deemed himself guilty, the jury may assume he had violent tendencies, and as he'd have confessed there would be little need to investigate the surrounding circumstances further. If he told them he was not guilty, he would be an untruthful piece of work. He knew there would be supporting evidence to suggest he did in fact elbow Captain Kevin Roy in the ribs because it was the truth. He reminded himself he was under oath. He did 'assault' a law enforcement officer.

Mac swallowed hard to force the taboo word to pass his lips "Guilty."

Silence crashed down onto the courtroom, he felt light headed and physically sick. He heard pens scribbling and keyboards chattering away as the reporters section of the courtroom had become intoxicated with the plea.

Jo couldn't have felt worse. The torment began to rip through her veins; her heart was the target of the rampage. The reason he was put in that situation was solely because of her, and she knew it. She had been the one to refuse Captain Roy cooperation and obstruct his exit. She had been the one who had pressed his buttons. She had been the one to interrupt the arrest She wanted to be the one on trial, and take the pain from Mac. He'd already suffered more than his fair share of pain. Her heart plummeted as the information sunk in, daggers thrust into her chest impaling her. If the building had suddenly decided to spontaneously combust, she wouldn't have been able to move, she was in a paralysed state. She wondered if Mac would resent her for it, she wondered how he wouldn't blame her for the outcome. She had forced him to say guilty at his trial. There was nothing she could do. She was useless. The one thing she had vowed to do was get Mac out of there, but before she had started she had ignited the fuse to the explosion. This 'new' information had now given the jury every reason to think that a warm, gentle, decent man was capable of such a horrific crime.

Mac was in the Dock, he didn't remember sitting down, but he had apparently followed suit as everyone else had. He looked around; we wanted to look at a friendly face. Harshly a guard yanked him so that he returned to face forwards once again, forced to face the disapproving concrete stares of the official people in front of him.

From Richard besides him, he heard a sneering "Pay attention."

Within the first 5 seconds the jury had already began to sum up Mac as a person, how he addressed himself, how he spoke, what he wore, were all factors in their eyes. They however couldn't see, just by looking at him, the lives he'd saved, the bad guys he caught, they could not see his volunteer work for the 9/11 victims and they couldn't see his soul.

Mac looked smart and presentable, though he knew that many criminals dramatically changed their appearance and mannerisms when put on trial. For Mac, nothing had changed in regards to the way he dressed, spoke and interacted with people. He wasn't a criminal.

Their calculating looks questioned him on his appearance, trying to form an unbiased opinion before they were brainwashed by the false evidence. The words of guilty rang in their ears, loud and clear.

* * *

_**Author Note:**_

_**I'm not superstitious or anything but I really don't like the number 13... Anyway Yeah, here it is.. ;D Hope you enjoyed... You know where the review button is & I love you ;D  
**_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Cold Blooded

* * *

The Jury in fact were biased, the media had made it impossible for them not to be, and the news continued to feed them fictitious speculation. They were making an example of Mac, and it was a feeding frenzy. The lies continued.

It was the DA's turn, and so Miss Green stood up, shuffled her notes one final time and already she felt slightly smug.  
Smiling, she began quietly confidently, "Members of the jury," she stepped aside from the podium so as to address them informally in order to gain their trust. This was done in the aim of establishing a personal connection. Mac could see how she was making eye contact with them, all new to court proceedings, she impersonated a friendly face whom they could trust and help them come to the right decision.  
"The defence council will tell you today that the defendant, McKenna Taylor Junior, is innocent." She raised her hand to emphasise the following statement, "This is a lie."

Mac squirmed uncomfortably, she had defiantly brushed up on the case in the last few days, and she was more assertive, better at communicating her point and much more confidant. Mac wondered that perhaps in the initial hearing she had acted in such a way so that by the end of the trial Richard and himself would think that she was incapable of winning the trial, tricking Richard into believing it was an easy win. Mac glanced at Richard who had lost his confident posture.

"Today you will learn that there are particular circumstances surrounding the case in which the defendant is involved, however the facts that lay before you today remain the truth. And they will lead you to conclude that there could have been no other possible perpetrator. This crime could not have been committed by any other individual – it is as simple as that. The information that will be put forward to you will show that beyond any reasonable doubt that McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior is guilty of murder in the first degree – Guilty of killing Gregory Williams in cold blood. All I ask of you is to do the right thing, put this man behind bars and keep this city safe."

Miss Green smiled at Richard, then the judge and faced back to the jury. With a small nod she sat back down at her desk and collected her papers into one neat pile once again.

Richard wasn't sure what to think, the DA held a very compelling argument and it was only the opening statement. He for one adopted the attitude of many other civilians in New York – He despised a dirty cop. This case was beginning to play on his emotional side, even if he could win this case, with the lack of preparation that had been put into it, he wasn't sure he wanted to. His face dropped and he made an on-the-spot decision that this would be the last case he ever fought as a defence lawyer, prosecution seemed like a much more righteous path.

"Ladies and Gentleman of the jury. We are all here for one thing. We are all here in this courtroom for the truth. The truth isn't open to interpretation or debate. The truth is absolute. That is the mutual understanding between everyone here." He looked at the jury, some of which were listening intently, some of which were jotting down notes. "The truth that I will demonstrate to you today is that, my client, Detective McKenna Llewellyn Boyd Taylor Junior, is innocent – Absolutely innocent. My colleagues and I are proud to represent a man of such courage and determination, a man that has served our country for the best part of his entire working life. We owe it to him to recognise the truth and to find the verdict 'not guilty,' Thank you." Richard's opening statement was not as strong as that of the prosecution; Mac knew that, the jury knew also. For whatever reason, his fears were seeping their way into reality.

More notes were shuffled, in preparation for the Presentation of evidence. Mac's senses heightened as he watched her align the paper in her hand, by slamming them against the desk. She cleared her throat and stood up, smiling kindly to the jury already leading them into a false sense of security.

"The first piece of evidence that I would like to bring to your attention is exhibit 5A034"  
Mac looked briefly at the transparent evidence bag she was waving around the courtroom. His heart plummeted faster than gravity permitted. He placed his head in his hands and leant forward in dismay. Somehow it had not been real until this moment, this finalised it. His eyes closed and he tried to block out the deadly stares from those around him. Unsuccessfully.

Miss Green was flaunting the bloody shirt to the audience of horrified faces. The last time of which Mac had seen it, before it was impounded as evidence, it had considerably less blood soaked into the fabric. It was indeed his shirt, the choice of clothing worn the day before, the very same one that contained both his and the victims DNA. It being his shirt, you would expect his DNA to be within the fabric. Somehow it was a shock to those who were investigating the crime, this of which caused Mac to question the abilities of those investigating the case. They were incompetent; they were simply suiting fact to theories instead of suiting theories to facts.

Miss Green pressed a button on a remote that caused the old and dusty projector to come to life. It roared in effort, sounding as if it might take off into flight. Images of the crime scene, of the victim and some controlled lab samples of tests filled the white board behind.

A gasp from the jury sent shivers down Mac's spine. It was the reaction of many, but this was different, in all the horrid things he'd seen, the difference was that he was being accused for the repulsive scene of the bloodied man. He was the soul person that they were holding accountable. The conclusion that the majority of them jumped to was the obvious one. Mac, out the corner of his eye, saw the look of disgust that replaced their unbiased opinions. This was the game changer. Miss Green had done well to present the evidence to the court room in such a way, especially with the speech that Richard had broadcast, the truth cannot be debated and wasn't up for interpretation. Here they had the truth, laid out in front of them. Little did they realise that the truth was never as simple or a pure as it was made out to be.

"This is the shirt, worn by the perpetrator during the night in question. The same individual sat before the court today. In the black of night, McKenna Taylor set out for revenge; brutally beating the victim, causing him grievous bodily harm. After being left unsatisfied with the result, Detective McKenna Taylor shot him in cold blood. He, becoming judge, jury and executioner, took the law in his own hands and opted for justice in an unlawful murder." She held out, and passed around, pictures of controlled lab experiments, of criminologists playing with fake blood and a shirt, specifically analysing the blood spatter.

The disgust lased within every word of her statement had been put in such a poisonous way; the horror was replicated on each and every one of the jury's facial expressions. However, since the item had only two donors of DNA it stood for a much stronger and compelling argument, fitting to the idea that no other individual could have committed this act. Trying to look at the predicament as an outsider, Mac could see that the defendant facing these charges along with the evidence presented was looking at a serious prison sentence, regardless of his guilt or innocence. Mac was just a convenient person to pin this on, Sinclair could prove that he had what it takes to bring down one of his own if they were in the wrong, the public could be satisfied with the speed of the arrest and trial, and the only one getting bad press was the only one with a clear conscious. Having pleaded "Not Guilty" hadn't seemed to help the situation much either. He already looked like a liar. His plea of guilt to a secondary primary crime made him look like a violent man. A violent, dishonest cop was not the most credible look for a defendant on stand for a trial of murder.

With a reluctant groan, the projector changed the picture to bring attention to a medical illustration of the wounds and injuries Gregory Williams sustained.

Mac's heart jolted an inch further south. The injuries were similar to that of Clay Dobson, the suspect of which he had tried to apprehend, the very same killer that threw himself of the roof of a building in order to tarnish the good detective's record. Mac knew that those details couldn't have been coincidental. They were there to taunt him.

"Broken nose, fractured jaw, cracked eye socket, fractured collarbone, internal bleeding around the kidneys, punctured lung, 3 broken ribs and a further 4 fractured. To me, this does not sound like the work of a clean killing, it was brutal, torturous, and it was evil."

Next to the illustrated medical examination, another appeared, this labelled as the former Clay Dobson, who had jumped almost 5 years ago.

"This is not Detective Taylor's first brush with the law, and it is my personal believe that he will not stop unless he is made to."

Richard was slow of the mark, something was more interesting with the glass of water of his desk, but as he looked up and realised that another image had been added to what was being shown by the projector, he bolted from his seat and yelled,  
"Objection!"

The judge looked at the counsellor over the rims of his glasses, waiting for an explanation for his outburst at that given time when in fact he could have objected when the illustration had first been revealed.

"I question the relevance to the image of Clay Dobson's injuries pertaining to the case at hand."

"Contextual Evidence, your honour" Miss Green innocently sated.

"I'll allow it."

Miss Green glanced a look of victory in Richard's direction. Disturbingly, he didn't seem fazed. Mac feared that was not because he knew he could win the case, but the unravelling truth was that he didn't really care.

Jo swallowed, she had not been allowed to see or have any involvement with the evidence that related to Mac or the case after he'd been arrested. Before the events of the previous days had taken a dark and twisted turn for the worse, Jo hadn't been overly interested in Gregory William's dead body, she was trying to create a profile for him, trying to get inside the mind of a child abductor and trying to find young Miss Mollie Granger. Today in the courtroom she wondered if Mollie granger would ever be found, the tragedy was, that even if she was found, alive, safe and well, it would not make a blind bit of difference for Mac.

Her eyes were fixated on the most incredible man she knew; he was the most caring, kind hearted, considerate man she'd ever met. The injustice was unbearable. She watched the case come together, with a bond so strong that a nine-people army was not going to tear it crashing down, but it wouldn't even make an impression on the surface. Tears overfilled her eyelids and they tricked down her rose tinted cheeks and splashed to the floor, the evidence was going to carry too much weight against him.

The jury had been asked not to make any judgements before all the evidence had been presented to them, but Mac could feel the accusing stares take hold, the scrutiny was intense. If Mac didn't know before, he was certain now, he was in trouble. He had no one to turn to who could pull him out of this mess. It was a battle that only he could experience.

Until now he hadn't realised how bad it sounded out loud. Occasionally he could delude his memory and betray his mind, telling himself that it was all part of a case, and everything would go back to normal before you could say "Oakwoods." He was, without expectation, jolted harshly back to reality with the preaches of Miss Green, who was treating the courtroom like a stage. It was her stage.

After a few hours Mac began to doubt his memory, perhaps he had repressed the details of the shooting and therefore could not remember the events of that night.

The first day of trial dragged on, the DA constantly repeated the worst aspects of the crime and how sure she was about the guilt of the defendant, these words smashed shards of glass into his heart. Mac wished for the floor to become like quick sand and swallow him whole. Despite these rather obscene desires, the floor remained in a solid state and Mac was forced to endure the torturous power of words. The whole time, his mind in overdrive, he tried to explain the whole misunderstanding. Every time he came up empty handed and he was pushed further into a dejected state of abase.

If that was the case, prison wasn't the place in which he needed to be, he needed to be in a hospital – and he hated hospitals. But the recollection of the jog consumed him. He remembered the cool night air, the sounds of distant traffic, and the breeze in the trees of the park. Was he absolutely certain that he did not shoot Gregory Williams? Or was he just confused. His innocence was the only thing he had to hang on to; he had been so sure of it up until now, doubting himself would only nail him further into the coffin.

•••

"What I'd like to show you today, builds to the evidence against the defendant." Miss Green had wasted no time in bringing the next piece of distorted evidence into the spotlight of the court. The second day of trial was now underway. She, of course, had started with the dramatics of the case. She held up Mac's firearm, secure, disarmed and in a cylindrical evidence container.

Along with finger print cards, the bullets and the shell casings displayed in a glass presentation to make it clear for the jury to see. Yes, Mac's fingerprints were on the shell casings. He had been the one to load his own gun. Again, it was something that seemed like an unknown occurrence to those investigating the crime; it was like people didn't load the magazines of their own guns. It was obvious to Mac, that because it was his possession, he had a right to touch it, leaving trace and fingerprints as he went. Surely it would have been more suspicious if there had been no fingerprints at all.

The jury looked refreshed and more at ease than the day before. Mac looked tired and worse for wear, not having a wink of sleep the night before. He again, smartly dressed and in a clean suit tried to look presentable. The team were there, hoping, praying, that this nightmare would all be over soon.

"This is the defendant's police issue firearm." Miss Green held it to the jury. "This _forensically_ links the head of the NYPD Crime lab to the murder of an innocent man." She looked around triumphantly. "I would like to call expert witness, Doctor Sholto Bates, to explain the forensic evidence."

The judge nodded and a man in his late 30 stood and swore an oath of truth to the court.  
"Can you explain to the court how you can definitely determine that it was this weapon that fired that bullet?" She pointed and indicated where necessary to aid her speech.

"Every gun in the US is test fired upon manufacturing; this is then recorded into a database. Every registered gun has been examined extensively.

During this examination we magnify the test fire round to reveal the unique and individual lines left by the barrel of the gun. These are known as striation marks.

The bullet that killed Mr Gregory Williams has stira patterns that conclusively match Detective Taylor's gun."

"So, just to clarify Doctor, there could have been no other weapon that shot the fatal bullet?"

"This is the gun that shot Gregory Williams." The doctor nodded in conformation.

"That will be all your honour."

Richard stood up and started to cross examine the evidence.

"You can prove that my client's gun was fired, and was indeed the gun that killed the deceased. Correct?"

"Yes."

"But you cannot prove, however, that it was my client that fired the gun. Isn't that also correct?"

"No, however in context with all the other evid-"

"Yes or no answers please, doctor." Richard bellowed.

"No."

"No, this evidence cannot prove that my client is responsible for this. No, further questions your honour."

Richard sat down, knowing that this strategy was not going to last long. Soon the evidence would amount together; soon their argument would come crashing down. One piece of evidence, standing alone, would not convict Mac; however there was a considerable amount of evidence blaming Mac for the murder of Gregory Williams. Richard wasn't sure how disappointed he was with fighting a losing battle. He wasn't sure what he wanted more, justice served or another win on his record. McKenna Taylor deserved to rot in prison for what he'd done. There, realistically, was no two ways about it.

Mac leant back further into his seat, this he was not enjoying. He looked across the jury, none of which looked entirely convinced by Richards' argument. If the roles had been reversed, Mac hesitated to believe he would not convict himself.

"Mr Williams may have made some poor decisions in his life, but he is not the one on trial here. So, assuming he is innocent until proven guilty, did he deserve to be brutally attacked, and murdered in such a horrific way?"

Mac was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty too.

Miss Green now had a certain stride in her step, confident that she would get the verdict that she wanted despite that it was only the second day of the trial. Although the question had been rhetorical, she answered it anyway, "No, Gregory Williams did not deserve to die that way. This doesn't change the fact that he did. And our defendant here is the sole individual responsible for this crime."

This was a phrase that Mac was sick of hearing. No matter how many times he had tried to repeat the same _factual_ information, it didn't get through to anybody that could help him. He trembled with condensed anger, frustration dominated his veins, his jaw tightened, his teeth clenched, all this in an effort to contain his rage. He had been told, on many occasions not to speak unless spoken to whilst in court. He wanted to break the rules, he wanted to stand and swear and yell and scream until there wasn't any air left in his lungs. But what kind of image would that lead the jury members to conclude? That he was a constant rule breaker, that he intended to do the things that he wasn't supposed to, like take justice into his own hands. They may jump to the wrong conclusion, that he was capable of committing the crimes in question.

It seemed that in this strange world that exclaiming your innocence may be just as good as labelling your guilt and tattooing the taboo word 'guilty' on ones forehead. The situation in which Mac found himself in forced ice into his soul, it chilled him to the bone.

He daringly glanced at Richard once more, in desperate hope that his faith in the justice system would be reinstated. Mac wanted to feel more confident with their deteriorating case, unravelling before them, but unfortunately what little hope he had preserved had been snatched from him. Richard's expression emanated waves of loss and despair, causing the polar opposite from the desired effect to land in Mac's state of mind and he was pushed further into the dormancy of misery he has secluded to.

The day seemed to disappear fast. The court's session had ended in no time at all and Mac had to wait until it was resumed the next day. He was held on remand, and so did not return to the precinct, he went to a prison's wing instead.

Jo tried to visit him, but suddenly he was locked up in a more secure environment than the Queen of England's crown jewels. The guards knew that the court was slowly nailing Mac to the cross with the evidence against him, and so one guarded his cell at all times. Though the remand wing of the prision had certain luxuries that the general population didn't have like entertainment facilities, he had still lost his identity with wearing orange. He no longer felt like himself. He was nobody. He was already becoming institutionalised.

Meanwhile the media had finally turned their attention to the missing girl. Because she was a minor, her name was not allowed to have been published in the papers under an injunction. The injunction had been lifted in a police appeal for her family to appear on the national news. Mollie Granger was now the person on everybody's mind. Somehow the nagging truth in the base of their minds was that somehow Mac was responsible for her disappearance. When in truth, he had done nothing but try and help the poor girl.

_Loud gun shots fired into the air followed by fellow solders' shouting, some screaming out in agony, some speechless and staring at the chaos they'd caused, and some dead. Lying motionless on the muddied ground, they were sprawled however which way they fell. No way for a solider to be seen, remembered by, buried._

_They had all been trained for this, fighting on the front line meant that they had become emotionless to the killing of the enemy. Mac would always remember the peace protests whenever he pulled the trigger. Nevertheless, like everyone else he shot to kill._

_Amongst other shots, the sound of one gun caught his attention. _

"_DOWN!" He yelled at the top of his lungs to a comrade, but he was too late. His friend had perished in the hands of the enemy in a second. Revenge had never run stronger within his veins. That could have been him. He would never see Claire again. The thought tore his heart into a thousand pieces. With determination in his eye, he turned and fired. The bullet sliced into the target of the enemy killing him instantly. _

Mac awoke in a cold sweat from his dream. He hadn't taken the revenge he wished he had but then he would have been just as bad as any other criminal. A cold blooded murder. His hands flew to his face in despair; he had not dreamt the reoccurring dream in years. The court case was not the end to his torture; the world was going to punish him in whichever way it could. The hurt of losing Claire, the tragedy of the wars he'd battled, the question of integrity that was held over his badge and his name. The possibility of losing his liberty was strong. So strong it hurt to think about it.

* * *

_**Author Note:**_

_**Yes! Finally another Chapter! See I'm not completely hopeless. :P Well I am It's been at least 6 months. I have just been so busy with my crappy college life. So this is my little outlet for today. I hope to write more and update soon. I have missed you guys! **_

_**I would love you forever if you did a really nice thing, and sent me a review. **_

_**Thanks for reading. I am sorry if I am dragging this out. Sorry if my lack of updates have put you off reading. I AM BACK. My aim is to write more. I don't know about everyone else but I was quite disappointed with the season finale :/ Fanfics are the only thing that make it better! **_

_**So as always constructive criticism would be fantastic. THANK YOU! **_


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